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diff --git a/old/3045-h.htm.06092010 b/old/3045-h.htm.06092010 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..801a249 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/3045-h.htm.06092010 @@ -0,0 +1,37456 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Last Chronicle of Barset, by Anthony Trollope</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + font-size: large; + margin-top:100px; + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%; + text-align:justify; } + h1,h2,h3,h4 {text-align: center; + clear: both; } + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; } + hr { width: 100%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + blockquote { font-size: large; } + blockquote.med { font-size: medium; } + table {font-size: large; + text-align: left; } + p {text-indent: 4%; } + p.noindent { text-indent: 0%; } + .center { text-align: center; } + .ind2 { margin-left: 2em; } + .ind4 { margin-left: 4em; } + .ind6 { margin-left: 6em; } + .ind8 { margin-left: 8em; } + .ind10 { margin-left: 10em; } + .ind12 { margin-left: 12em; } + .ind15 { margin-left: 15em; } + .jright { text-align: right; } + .nowrap { white-space: nowrap; } + .small { font-size: 85%; } + .large { font-size: 130%; } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps; } + .u { text-decoration: underline; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red; + text-decoration: underline; } + pre {font-size: 70%; } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Last Chronicle of Barset, by Anthony +Trollope</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p class="noindent">Title: The Last Chronicle of Barset</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: Anthony Trollope</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: January, 2002 [eBook #3045]<br /> +[Most recently updated: June 9, 2010]</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Kenneth David Cooper<br /> + and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.<br /> + <br /> + HTML version by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE LAST CHRONICLE<br />OF BARSET</h1> + +<p> </p> +<h4>by</h4> + +<h2>ANTHONY TROLLOPE</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h4>First published in monthly installments<br /> + from December 1, 1866, to July 6, 1867,<br /> + and in book form in 1867</h4> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1"> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td> <td><a href="#c1" >How Did He Get It?</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td> <td><a href="#c2" >By Heavens He Had Better Not!</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td> <td><a href="#c3" >The Archdeacon's Threat</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td> <td><a href="#c4" >The Clergyman's House at Hogglestock</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td> <td><a href="#c5" >What the World Thought About It</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td> <td><a href="#c6" >Grace Crawley</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td> <td><a href="#c7" >Miss Prettyman's Private Room</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td> <td><a href="#c8" >Mr Crawley Is Taken to Silverbridge</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td> <td><a href="#c9" >Grace Crawley Goes to Allington</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">X. </td> <td><a href="#c10" >Dinner at Framley Court</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XI. </td> <td><a href="#c11" >The Bishop Sends His Inhibition</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XII. </td> <td><a href="#c12" >Mr Crawley Seeks for Sympathy</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIII. </td> <td><a href="#c13" >The Bishop's Angel</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIV. </td> <td><a href="#c14" >Major Grantly Consults a Friend</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XV. </td> <td><a href="#c15" >Up in London</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVI. </td> <td><a href="#c16" >Down at Allington</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVII. </td> <td><a href="#c17" >Mr Crawley Is Summoned to Barchester</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c18" >The Bishop of Barchester Is Crushed</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIX. </td> <td><a href="#c19" >Where Did It Come From?</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XX. </td> <td><a href="#c20" >What Mr Walker Thought About It</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXI. </td> <td><a href="#c21" >Mr Robarts on His Embassy</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXII. </td> <td><a href="#c22" >Major Grantly at Home</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIII. </td> <td><a href="#c23" >Miss Lily Dale's Resolution</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIV. </td> <td><a href="#c24" >Mrs Dobbs Broughton's Dinner-party</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXV. </td> <td><a href="#c25" >Miss Madalina Demolines</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVI. </td> <td><a href="#c26" >The Picture</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVII. </td> <td><a href="#c27" >A Hero at Home</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c28" >Showing How Major Grantly Took a Walk</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIX. </td> <td><a href="#c29" >Miss Lily Dale's Logic</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXX. </td> <td><a href="#c30" >Showing What Major Grantly Did After His Walk</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXI. </td> <td><a href="#c31" >Showing How Major Grantly Returned to Guestwick</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXII. </td> <td><a href="#c32" >Mr Toogood</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIII. </td> <td><a href="#c33" >The Plumstead Foxes</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIV. </td> <td><a href="#c34" >Mrs Proudie Sends for Her Lawyer</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXV. </td> <td><a href="#c35" >Lily Dale Writes Two Words in Her Book</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVI. </td> <td><a href="#c36" >Grace Crawley Returns Home</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVII. </td> <td><a href="#c37" >Hook Court</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c38" >Jael</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIX. </td> <td><a href="#c39" >A New Flirtation</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XL. </td> <td><a href="#c40" >Mr Toogood's Ideas About Society</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLI. </td> <td><a href="#c41" >Grace Crawley at Home</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLII. </td> <td><a href="#c42" >Mr Toogood Travels Professionally</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLIII. </td> <td><a href="#c43" >Mr Crosbie Goes into the City</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLIV. </td> <td><a href="#c44" >"I Suppose I Must Let You Have It"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLV. </td> <td><a href="#c45" >Lily Dale Goes to London</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLVI. </td> <td><a href="#c46" >The Bayswater Romance</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLVII. </td> <td><a href="#c47" >Dr Tempest at the Palace</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c48" >The Softness of Sir Raffle Buffle</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLIX. </td> <td><a href="#c49" >Near the Close</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">L. </td> <td><a href="#c50" >Lady Lufton's Proposition</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LI. </td> <td><a href="#c51" >Mrs Dobbs Broughton Piles Her Fagots</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LII. </td> <td><a href="#c52" >Why Don't You Have an "It" for Yourself?</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LIII. </td> <td><a href="#c53" >Rotten Row</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LIV. </td> <td><a href="#c54" >The Clerical Commission</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LV. </td> <td><a href="#c55" >Framley Parsonage</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LVI. </td> <td><a href="#c56" >The Archdeacon Goes to Framley</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LVII. </td> <td><a href="#c57" >A Double Pledge</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c58" >The Cross-grainedness of Men</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LIX. </td> <td><a href="#c59" >A Lady Presents Her Compliments to Miss L. D.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LX. </td> <td><a href="#c60" >The End of Jael and Sisera</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXI. </td> <td><a href="#c61" >"It's Dogged as Does It"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXII. </td> <td><a href="#c62" >Mr Crawley's Letter to the Dean</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXIII. </td> <td><a href="#c63" >Two Visitors to Hogglestock</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXIV. </td> <td><a href="#c64" >The Tragedy in Hook Court</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXV. </td> <td><a href="#c65" >Miss Van Siever Makes Her Choice</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXVI. </td> <td><a href="#c66" >Requiescat in Pace</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXVII. </td> <td><a href="#c67" >In Memoriam</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c68" >The Obstinacy of Mr Crawley</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXIX. </td> <td><a href="#c69" >Mr Crawley's Last Appearance in His Own Pulpit</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXX. </td> <td><a href="#c70" >Mrs Arabin Is Caught</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXI. </td> <td><a href="#c71" >Mr Toogood at Silverbridge</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXII. </td> <td><a href="#c72" >Mr Toogood at "The Dragon of Wantly"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXIII. </td> <td><a href="#c73" >There Is Comfort at Plumstead</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXIV. </td> <td><a href="#c74" >The Crawleys Are Informed</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXV. </td> <td><a href="#c75" >Madalina's Heart Is Bleeding</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXVI. </td> <td><a href="#c76" >I Think He Is Light of Heart</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXVII. </td> <td><a href="#c77" >The Shattered Tree</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c78" >The Arabins Return to Barchester</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXIX. </td> <td><a href="#c79" >Mr Crawley Speaks of His Coat</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXX. </td> <td><a href="#c80" >Miss Demolines Desires to Become a Finger-post</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXI. </td> <td><a href="#c81" >Barchester Cloisters</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXII. </td> <td><a href="#c82" >The Last Scene at Hogglestock</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXIII. </td> <td><a href="#c83" >Mr Crawley Is Conquered</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXIV. </td> <td><a href="#c84" >Conclusion</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> + + +<p><a name="c1" id="c1"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> +<h3>How Did He Get It?<br /> </h3> + + +<p>"I can never bring myself to believe it, John," said Mary Walker, the +pretty daughter of Mr George Walker, attorney of Silverbridge. Walker +and Winthrop was the name of the firm, and they were respectable +people, who did all the solicitors' business that had to be done in +that part of Barsetshire on behalf of the Crown, were employed on the +local business of the Duke of Omnium, who is great in those parts, +and altogether held their heads up high, as provincial lawyers often +do. They—the Walkers—lived in a great brick house in the middle of +the town, gave dinners, to which the county gentlemen not +unfrequently condescended to come, and in a mild way led the fashion +in Silverbridge. "I can never bring myself to believe it, John," said +Miss Walker.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to bring yourself to believe it," said John, without +taking his eyes from his book.</p> + +<p>"A clergyman,—and such a clergyman too!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see that that has anything to do with it." And as he now +spoke, John did take his eyes off his book. "Why should not a +clergyman turn thief as well as anybody else? You girls always seem +to forget that clergymen are only men after all."</p> + +<p>"Their conduct is likely to be better than that of other men, I +think."</p> + +<p>"I deny it utterly," said John Walker. "I'll undertake to say that at +this moment there are more clergymen in debt in Barsetshire than +there are either lawyers or doctors. This man has always been in +debt. Since he has been in the county I don't think he has ever been +able to show his face in the High Street of Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"John, that is saying more than you have a right to say," said Mrs +Walker.</p> + +<p>"Why, mother, this very cheque was given to a butcher who had +threatened a few days before to post bills all about the county, +giving an account of the debt that was due to him, if the money was +not paid at once."</p> + +<p>"More shame for Mr Fletcher," said Mary. "He has made a fortune as +butcher in Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with it? Of course a man likes to have his +money. He had written three times to the bishop, and he had sent a +man over to Hogglestock to get his little bill settled six days +running. You see he got it at last. Of course, a tradesman must look +for his money."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, do you think that Mr Crawley stole the cheque?" Mary, as she +asked the question, came and stood over her mother, looking at her +with anxious eyes.</p> + +<p>"I would rather give no opinion, dear."</p> + +<p>"But you must think something when everybody is talking about it, +mamma."</p> + +<p>"Of course my mother thinks he did," said John, going back to his +book. "It is impossible that she should think otherwise."</p> + +<p>"That is not fair, John," said Mrs Walker; "and I won't have you +fabricate thoughts for me, or put the expression of them into my +mouth. The whole affair is very painful, and as your father is +engaged in the inquiry, I think that the less said about the matter +in this house the better. I am sure that that would be your father's +feeling."</p> + +<p>"Of course I should say nothing about it before him," said Mary. "I +know that papa does not wish to have it talked about. But how is one +to help thinking about such a thing? It would be so terrible for all +of us who belong to the Church."</p> + +<p>"I do not see that at all," said John. "Mr Crawley is not more than +any other man just because he's a clergyman. I hate all that kind of +clap-trap. There are a lot of people here in Silverbridge who think +the matter shouldn't be followed up, just because the man is in a +position which makes the crime more criminal in him than it would be +in another."</p> + +<p>"But I feel sure that Mr Crawley has committed no crime at all," said +Mary.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Mrs Walker, "I have just said that I would rather you +would not talk about it. Papa will be in directly."</p> + +<p>"I won't, mamma;—only—"</p> + +<p>"Only! yes; just only!" said John. "She'd go on till dinner if any +one would stay to hear her."</p> + +<p>"You've said twice as much as I have, John." But John had left the +room before his sister's words could reach him.</p> + +<p>"You know, mamma, it is quite impossible not to help thinking of it," +said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I dare say it is, my dear."</p> + +<p>"And when one knows the people it does make it so dreadful."</p> + +<p>"But do you know them? I never spoke to Mr Crawley in my life, and I +do not think I ever saw her."</p> + +<p>"I knew Grace very well,—when she used to come first to Miss +Prettyman's school."</p> + +<p>"Poor girl. I pity her."</p> + +<p>"Pity her! Pity is no word for it, mamma. My heart bleeds for them. +And yet I do not believe for a moment that he stole the cheque. How +can it be possible? For though he may have been in debt because they +have been so very, very, poor; yet we all know that he has been an +excellent clergyman. When the Robartses were dining here last, I +heard Mrs Robarts say that for piety and devotion to his duties she +had hardly ever seen any one equal to him. And the Robartses know +more of them than anybody."</p> + +<p>"They say that the dean is his great friend."</p> + +<p>"What a pity it is that the Arabins should be away just now when he +is in such trouble." And in this way the mother and daughter went on +discussing the question of the clergyman's guilt in spite of Mrs +Walker's previously expressed desire that nothing more might be said +about it. But Mrs Walker, like many other mothers, was apt to be more +free in converse with her daughter than she was with her son. While +they were thus talking the father came in from his office, and then +the subject was dropped. He was a man between fifty and sixty years +of age, with grey hair, rather short, and somewhat corpulent, but +still gifted with that amount of personal comeliness which +comfortable position and the respect of others will generally seem to +give. A man rarely carries himself meanly, whom the world holds high +in esteem.</p> + +<p>"I am very tired, my dear," said Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>"You look tired. Come and sit down for a few minutes before you +dress. Mary, get your father's slippers." Mary instantly ran to the +door.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, my darling," said the father. And then he whispered to his +wife, as soon as Mary was out of hearing, "I fear the unfortunate man +is guilty. I fear he is! I fear he is!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, heavens! what will become of them?"</p> + +<p>"What indeed? She has been with me to-day."</p> + +<p>"Has she? And what could you say to her?"</p> + +<p>"I told her at first that I could not see her, and begged her not to +speak to me about it. I tried to make her understand that she should +go to some one else. But it was of no use."</p> + +<p>"And how did it end?"</p> + +<p>"I asked her to go in to you, but she declined. She said you could do +nothing for her."</p> + +<p>"And does she think her husband guilty?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. She think him guilty! Nothing on earth,—or from heaven +either, as I take it, would make her suppose it to be possible. She +came to me simply to tell me how good he was."</p> + +<p>"I love her for that," said Mrs Walker.</p> + +<p>"So did I. But what is the good of loving her? Thank you, dearest. +I'll get your slippers for you some day, perhaps."</p> + +<p>The whole county was astir in this matter of this alleged guilt of +the Reverend Josiah Crawley,—the whole county, almost as keenly as +the family of Mr Walker, of Silverbridge. The crime laid to his +charge was the theft of a cheque for twenty pounds, which he was said +to have stolen out of a pocket-book left or dropped in his house, and +to have passed as money into the hands of one Fletcher, a butcher of +Silverbridge, to whom he was indebted. Mr Crawley was in those days +the perpetual curate of Hogglestock, a parish in the northern +extremity of East Barsetshire; a man known by all who knew anything +of him to be very poor,—an unhappy, moody, disappointed man, upon +whom the troubles of the world always seemed to come with a double +weight. But he had ever been respected as a clergyman, since his old +friend Mr Arabin, the dean of Barchester, had given him the small +incumbency which he now held. Though moody, unhappy, and +disappointed, he was a hard-working, conscientious pastor among the +poor people with whom his lot was cast; for in the parish of +Hogglestock there resided only a few farmers higher in degree than +field labourers, brickmakers, and such like. Mr Crawley had now +passed some ten years of his life at Hogglestock; and during those +years he had worked very hard to do his duty, struggling to teach the +people around him perhaps too much of the mystery, but something also +of the comfort, of religion. That he had became popular in his parish +cannot be said of him. He was not a man to make himself popular in +any position. I have said that he was moody and disappointed. He was +even worse than this; he was morose, sometimes almost to insanity. +There had been days in which even his wife had found it impossible to +deal with him otherwise than as with an acknowledged lunatic. And +this was known among the farmers, who talked about their clergyman +among themselves as though he were a madman. But among the very poor, +among the brickmakers of Hoggle End,—a lawless, drunken, terribly +rough lot of humanity,—he was held in high respect; for they knew +that he lived hardly, as they lived; that he worked hard, as they +worked; and that the outside world was hard to him, as it was to +them; and there had been an apparent sincerity of godliness about the +man, and a manifest struggle to do his duty in spite of the world's +ill-usage, which had won its way even with the rough; so that Mr +Crawley's name had stood high with many in his parish, in spite of +the unfortunate peculiarity of his disposition. This was the man who +was now accused of stealing a cheque for twenty pounds.</p> + +<p>But before the circumstances of the alleged theft are stated, a word +or two must be said as to Mr Crawley's family. It is declared that a +good wife is a crown to her husband, but Mrs Crawley had been much +more than a crown to him. As had regarded all the inner life of the +man,—all that portion of his life which had not been passed in the +pulpit or in pastoral teaching,—she had been crown, throne, and +sceptre all in one. That she had endured with him and on his behalf +the miseries of poverty, and the troubles of a life which had known +no smiles, is perhaps not to be alleged as much to her honour. She +had joined herself to him for better or worse, and it was her +manifest duty to bear such things; wives always have to bear them, +knowing when they marry that they must take their chance. Mr Crawley +might have been a bishop, and Mrs Crawley, when she married him, +perhaps thought it probable that such would be his fortune. Instead +of that he was now, just as he was approaching his fiftieth year, a +perpetual curate, with an income of one hundred and thirty pounds per +annum,—and a family. That had been Mrs Crawley's luck in life, and +of course she bore it. But she had also done much more than this. She +had striven hard to be contented, or, rather, to appear to be +contented, when he had been most wretched and most moody. She had +struggled to conceal from him her own conviction as to his +half-insanity, treating him at the same time with the respect due to +an honoured father of a family, and with the careful measured +indulgence fit for a sick and wayward child. In all the terrible +troubles of their life her courage had been higher than his. The +metal of which she was made had been tempered to a steel which was +very rare and fine, but the rareness and fineness of which he had +failed to appreciate. He had often told her that she was without +pride, because she was stooped to receive from others on his behalf +and on behalf of their children, things which were needful, but which +she could not buy. He had told her that she was a beggar, and that it +was better to starve than to beg. She had borne the rebuke without a +word in reply, and had then begged again for him, and had endured the +starvation herself. Nothing in their poverty had, for years past, +been a shame to her; but every accident of their poverty was still, +and ever had been, a living disgrace to him.</p> + +<p>They had had many children, and three were still alive. Of the +eldest, Grace Crawley, we shall hear much in the coming story. She +was at this time nineteen years old, and there were those who said +that, in spite of her poverty, her shabby outward apparel, and a +certain thin, unfledged, unrounded form of person, a want of fulness +in the lines of her figure, she was the prettiest girl in that part +of the world. She was living now at a school in Silverbridge, where +for the last year she had been a teacher; and there were many in +Silverbridge who declared that very bright prospects were opening to +her,—that young Major Grantly of Cosby Lodge, who, though a widower +with a young child, was the cynosure of all female eyes in and around +Silverbridge, had found beauty in her thin face, and that Grace +Crawley's fortune was made in the teeth, as it were, of the +prevailing ill-fortune of her family. Bob Crawley, who was two years +younger, was now at Marlbro' School, from whence it was intended that +he should proceed to Cambridge, and be educated there at the expense +of his godfather, Dean Arabin. In this also the world saw a stroke of +good luck. But then nothing was lucky to Mr Crawley. Bob, indeed, who +had done well at school, might do well at Cambridge,—might achieve +great things there. But Mr Crawley would almost have preferred that +the boy should work in the fields, than that he should be educated in +a manner so manifestly eleemosynary. And then his clothes! How was he +to be provided with clothes fit either for school or for college? But +the dean and Mrs Crawley between them managed this, leaving Mr +Crawley very much in the dark, as Mrs Crawley was in the habit of +leaving him. Then there was a younger daughter, Jane, still at home, +who passed her life between her mother's work-table and her father's +Greek, mending linen, and learning to scan iambics,—for Mr Crawley +in his early days had been a ripe scholar.</p> + +<p>And now there had come upon them all this terribly-crushing disaster. +That poor Mr Crawley had gradually got himself into a mess of debt at +Silverbridge, from which he was quite unable to extricate himself, +was generally known by all the world both of Silverbridge and +Hogglestock. To a great many it was known that Dean Arabin had paid +money for him, very much contrary to his own consent, and that he had +quarrelled, or attempted to quarrel, with the dean in +consequence,—had so attempted, although the money had in part passed +through his own hands. There had been one creditor, Fletcher, the +butcher of Silverbridge, who had of late been specially hard upon +poor Crawley. This man, who had not been without good nature in his +dealings, had heard stories of the dean's good-will and such like, +and had loudly expressed his opinion that the perpetual curate of +Hogglestock would show a higher pride in allowing himself to be +indebted to a rich brother clergyman, than in remaining under thrall +to a butcher. And thus a rumour had grown up. And then the butcher +had written repeated letters to the bishop,—to Bishop Proudie of +Barchester, who had at first caused his chaplain to answer them, and +had told Mr Crawley somewhat roundly what was his opinion of a +clergyman who eat meat and did not pay for it. But nothing that the +bishop could say or do enabled Mr Crawley to pay the butcher. It was +very grievous to such a man as Mr Crawley to receive these letters +from such a man as Bishop Proudie; but the letters came, and made +festering wounds, but then there was an end of them. And at last +there had come forth from the butcher's shop a threat that if the +money were not paid by a certain date, printed bills should be posted +about the county. All who heard of this in Silverbridge were very +angry with Mr Fletcher, for no one there had ever known a tradesman +to take such a step before; but Fletcher swore that he would +persevere, and defended himself by showing that six or seven months +since, in the spring of the year, Mr Crawley had been paying money in +Silverbridge, but had paid none to him,—to him who had been not only +his earliest, but his most enduring creditor. "He got money from the +dean in March," said Mr Fletcher to Mr Walker, "and he paid twelve +pounds ten to Green, and seventeen pounds to Grobury, the baker." It +was that seventeen pounds to Grobury, the baker, for flour, which +made the butcher so fixedly determined to smite the poor clergyman +hip and thigh. "And he paid money to Hall and to Mrs Holt, and to a +deal more; but he never came near my shop. If he had even shown +himself, I would not have said so much about it." And then a day +before the date named, Mrs Crawley had come into Silverbridge, and +had paid the butcher twenty pounds in four five-pound notes. So far +Fletcher the butcher had been successful.</p> + +<p>Some six weeks after this, inquiry began to be made as to a certain +cheque for twenty pounds drawn by Lord Lufton on his bankers in +London, which cheque had been lost in the early spring by Mr Soames, +Lord Lufton's man of business in Barsetshire, together with a +pocket-book in which it had been folded. This pocket-book Soames had +believed himself to have left at Mr Crawley's house, and had gone so +far, even at the time of the loss, as to express his absolute +conviction that he had so left it. He was in the habit of paying a +rentcharge to Mr Crawley on behalf of Lord Lufton, amounting to +twenty pound four shillings, every half-year. Lord Lufton held the +large tithes of Hogglestock, and paid annually a sum of forty pounds +eight shillings to the incumbent. This amount was, as a rule, +remitted punctually by Mr Soames through the post. On the occasion +now spoken of, he had had some reason to visit Hogglestock, and had +paid the money personally to Mr Crawley. Of so much there was no +doubt. But he had paid it by a cheque drawn by himself on his own +bankers at Barchester, and that cheque had been cashed in the +ordinary way on the next morning. On returning to his own house in +Barchester he had missed his pocket-book, and had written to Mr +Crawley to make inquiry. There had been no money in it, beyond the +cheque drawn by Lord Lufton for twenty pounds. Mr Crawley had +answered this letter by another, saying that no pocket-book had been +found in his house. All this had happened in March.</p> + +<p>In October, Mrs Crawley paid twenty pounds to Fletcher, the butcher, +and in November Lord Lufton's cheque was traced back through the +Barchester bank to Mr Crawley's hands. A brickmaker of Hoggle End, +much favoured by Mr Crawley, had asked for change over the counter of +this Barchester bank,—not, as will be understood, the bank on which +the cheque was drawn—and had received it. The accommodation had been +refused to the man at first, but when he presented the cheque the +second day, bearing Mr Crawley's name on the back of it, together +with a note from Mr Crawley himself, the money had been given for it; +and the identical notes so paid had been given to Fletcher, the +butcher, on the next day by Mrs Crawley. When inquiry was made, Mr +Crawley stated that the cheque had been paid to him by Mr Soames, on +behalf of the rentcharge due to him by Lord Lufton. But the error of +this statement was at once made manifest. There was the cheque, +signed by Mr Soames himself, for the exact amount,—twenty pounds +four shillings. As he himself declared, he had never in his life paid +money on behalf of Lord Lufton by a cheque drawn by his lordship. The +cheque given by Lord Lufton, and which had been lost, had been a +private matter between them. His lordship had simply wanted change in +his pocket, and his agent had given it to him. Mr Crawley was +speedily shown to be altogether wrong in the statement made to +account for possession of the cheque.</p> + +<p>Then he became very moody and would say nothing further. But his +wife, who had known nothing of his first statement when made, came +forward and declared that she believed the cheque for twenty pounds +to be part of a present given by Dean Arabin to her husband in April +last. There had been, she said, great heartburnings about this gift, +and she had hardly dared to speak to her husband on the subject. An +execution had been threatened in the house by Grobury, the baker, of +which the dean had heard. Then there had been some scenes at the +deanery between her husband and the dean and Mrs Arabin, as to which +she had subsequently heard much from Mrs Arabin. Mrs Arabin had told +her that money had been given,—and at last taken. Indeed, so much +had been very apparent, as bills had been paid to the amount of at +least fifty pounds. When the threat made by the butcher had reached +her husband's ears, the effect upon him had been very grievous. All +this was the story told by Mrs Crawley to Mr Walker, the lawyer, when +he was pushing his inquiries. She, poor woman, at any rate told all +that she knew. Her husband had told her one morning, when the +butcher's threat was weighing heavily on his mind, speaking to her in +such a humour that she found it impossible to cross-question him, +that he had still money left, though it was money which he had hoped +that he would not be driven to use; and he had given her the four +five-pound notes and had told her to go to Silverbridge and satisfy +the man who was so eager for his money. She had done so, and had felt +no doubt that the money so forthcoming had been given by the dean. +That was the story told by Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>But how could she explain her husband's statement as to the cheque, +which had been shown to be altogether false? All this passed between +Mr Walker and Mrs Crawley, and the lawyer was very gentle with her. +In the first stages of the inquiry he had simply desired to learn the +truth, and place the clergyman above suspicion. Latterly, being bound +as he was to follow the matter up officially, he would not have seen +Mrs Crawley had he been able to escape that lady's importunity. "Mr +Walker," she had said, at last, "you do not know my husband. No one +knows him but I. It is hard to have to tell you of all our troubles." +"If I can lessen them, trust me that I will do so," said the lawyer. +"No one, I think, can lessen them in this world," said the lady. "The +truth is, sir, that my husband often knows not what he says. When he +declared that the money had been paid to him by Mr Soames, most +certainly he thought so. There are times when in his misery he knows +not what he says,—when he forgets everything."</p> + +<p>Up to this period, Mr Walker had not suspected Mr Crawley of anything +dishonest, nor did he suspect him as yet. The poor man had probably +received the money from the dean, and had told the lie about it, not +choosing to own that he had taken money from his rich friend, and +thinking that there would be no further inquiry. He had been very +foolish, and that would be the end of it. Mr Soames was by no means +so good-natured in his belief. "How should my pocket-book have got +into Dean Arabin's hands?" said Mr Soames, almost triumphantly. "And +then I felt sure at the time that I had left it at Crawley's house!"</p> + +<p>Mr Walker wrote a letter to the dean, who at that moment was in +Florence, on his way to Rome, from whence he was going on to the Holy +Land. There came back a letter from Mr Arabin, saying that on the +17th of March he had given to Mr Crawley a sum of fifty pounds, and +that the payment had been made with five Bank of England notes of ten +pounds each, which had been handed by him to his friend in the +library at the deanery. The letter was very short, and may, perhaps, +be described as having been almost curt. Mr Walker, in his anxiety to +do the best he could for Mr Crawley, had simply asked a question as +to the nature of the transaction between the two gentlemen, saying +that no doubt the dean's answer would clear up a little mystery which +existed at present respecting a cheque for twenty pounds. The dean in +answer simply stated the fact as it has been given above; but he +wrote to Mr Crawley begging to know what was in truth this new +difficulty, and offering any assistance in his power. He explained +all the circumstances of the money, as he remembered them. The sum +advanced had certainly consisted of fifty pounds, and there had +certainly been five Bank of England notes. He had put the notes into +an envelope, which he had not closed, but had addressed to Mr +Crawley, and had placed this envelope in his friend's hands. He went +on to say that Mrs Arabin would have written, but that she was in +Paris with her son. Mrs Arabin was to remain in Paris during his +absence in the Holy Land, and meet him in Italy on his return. As she +was so much nearer at hand, the dean expressed a hope that Mrs +Crawley would apply to her if there was any trouble.</p> + +<p>The letter to Mr Walker was conclusive as to the dean's money. Mr +Crawley had not received Lord Lufton's cheque from the dean. Then +whence had he received it? The poor wife was left by the lawyer to +obtain further information from her husband. Ah, who can tell how +terrible were the scenes between that poor pair of wretches, as the +wife endeavoured to learn the truth from her miserable, half-maddened +husband! That her husband had been honest throughout, she had not any +shadow of doubt. She did not doubt that to her at least he +endeavoured to tell the truth, as far as his poor racked imperfect +memory would allow him to remember what was true and what was not +true. The upshot of it all was that the husband declared that he +still believed that the money had come to him from the dean. He had +kept it by him, not wishing to use it if he could help it. He had +forgotten it,—so he said at times,—having understood from Arabin +that he was to have fifty pounds, and having received more. If it had +not come to him from the dean, then it had been sent to him by the +Prince of Evil for his utter undoing; and there were times in which +he seemed to think that such had been the manner in which the fatal +cheque had reached him. In all that he said he was terribly confused, +contradictory, unintelligible,—speaking almost as a madman might +speak,—ending always in declaring that the cruelty of the world had +been too much for him, that the waters were meeting over his head, +and praying to God's mercy to remove him from the world. It need +hardly be said that his poor wife in these days had a burden on her +shoulders that was more than enough to crush any woman.</p> + +<p>She at last acknowledged to Mr Walker that she could not account for +the twenty pounds. She herself would write again to the dean about +it, but she hardly hoped for any further assistance there. "The +dean's answer is very plain," said Mr Walker. "He says that he gave +Mr Crawley five ten-pound notes, and those five notes we have traced +to Mr Crawley's hands." Then Mrs Crawley could say nothing further +beyond making protestations of her husband's innocence.</p> + + +<p><a name="c2" id="c2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> +<h3>By Heavens He Had Better Not!<br /> </h3> + + +<p>I must ask the reader to make the acquaintance of Major Grantly of Cosby +Lodge, before he is introduced to the family of Mr Crawley, at their +parsonage in Hogglestock. It has been said that Major Grantly had +thrown a favourable eye on Grace Crawley,—by which report occasion +was given to all men and women in those parts to hint that the +Crawleys, with all their piety and humility, were very cunning, and +that one of the Grantlys was,—to say the least of it,—very soft, +admitted as it was throughout the county of Barsetshire, that there +was no family therein more widely awake to the affairs generally of +this world and the next combined, than the family of which Archdeacon +Grantly was the respected head and patriarch. Mrs Walker, the most +good-natured woman in Silverbridge, had acknowledged to her daughter +that she could not understand it,—that she could not see anything at +all in Grace Crawley. Mr Walker had shrugged his shoulders and +expressed a confident belief that Major Grantly had not a shilling of +his own beyond his half-pay and his late wife's fortune, which was +only six thousand pounds. Others, who were ill-natured, had declared +that Grace Crawley was little better than a beggar, and that she +could not possibly have acquired the manners of a gentlewoman. +Fletcher the butcher had wondered whether the major would pay his +future father-in-law's debts; and Dr Tempest, the old Rector of +Silverbridge, whose four daughters were all as yet unmarried, had +turned up his old nose, and had hinted that half-pay majors did not +get caught in marriage so easily as that.</p> + +<p>Such and such like had been the expressions of the opinion of men and +women in Silverbridge. But the matter had been discussed further +afield than at Silverbridge, and had been allowed to intrude itself +as a most unwelcome subject into the family conclave of the +archdeacon's rectory. To those who have not as yet learned the fact +from the public character and well-appreciated reputation of the man, +let it be known that Archdeacon Grantly was at this time, as he had +been for many years previously, Archdeacon of Barchester and Rector +of Plumstead Episcopi. A rich and prosperous man he had ever +been,—though he also had had his sore troubles, as we all have,—his +having arisen chiefly from want of that higher ecclesiastical +promotion which his soul had coveted, and for which the whole tenour +of his life had especially fitted him. Now, in his green old age, he +had ceased to covet, but had not ceased to repine. He had ceased to +covet aught for himself, but still coveted much for his children; and +for him such a marriage as this which was now suggested for his son, +was encompassed almost with the bitterness of death. "I think it +would kill me," he said to his wife; "by heavens, I think it would be +my death!"</p> + +<p>A daughter of the archdeacon had made a splendid matrimonial +alliance,—so splendid that its history was at the time known to all +the aristocracy of the county, and had not been altogether forgotten +by any of those who keep themselves well instructed in the details of +the peerage. Griselda Grantly had married Lord Dumbello, the eldest +son of the Marquis of Hartletop,—than whom no English nobleman was +more puissant, if broad acres, many castles, high title, and stars +and ribbons are any sign of puissance,—and she was now, herself, +Marchioness of Hartletop, with a little Lord Dumbello of her own. The +daughter's visits to the parsonage of her father were of necessity +rare, such necessity having come from her own altered sphere of life. +A Marchioness of Hartletop has special duties which will hardly +permit her to devote herself frequently to the humdrum society of a +clerical father and mother. That it would be so, father and mother +had understood when they sent the fortunate girl forth to a higher +world. But, now and again, since her August marriage, she had laid +her coroneted head upon one of the old rectory pillows for a night or +so, and, on such occasions all the Plumsteadians had been loud in +praise of her condescension. Now it happened that when this second +and more aggravated blast of the evil wind reached the rectory,—the +renewed waft of the tidings as to Major Grantly's infatuation +regarding Miss Grace Crawley, which, on its renewal, seemed to bring +with it something of confirmation,—it chanced, I say, that at that +moment Griselda, Marchioness of Hartletop, was gracing the paternal +mansion. It need hardly be said that the father was not slow to +invoke such a daughter's counsel, and such a sister's aid.</p> + +<p>I am not quite sure that the mother would have been equally quick to +ask her daughter's advice, had she been left in the matter entirely +to her own propensities. Mrs Grantly had ever loved her daughter +dearly, and had been very proud of that great success in life which +Griselda had achieved; but in late years, the child had become, as a +woman, separate from the mother, and there had arisen not +unnaturally, a break of that close confidence which in early years +had existed between them. Griselda, Marchioness of Hartletop, was +more than ever a daughter of the archdeacon, even though he might +never see her. Nothing could rob him of the honour of such a +progeny,—nothing, even though there had been actual estrangement +between them. But it was not so with Mrs Grantly. Griselda had done +very well, and Mrs Grantly had rejoiced; but she had lost her child. +Now the major, who had done well also, though in a much lesser +degree, was still her child, moving in the same sphere of life with +her, still dependent in a great degree upon his father's bounty, a +neighbour in the county, a frequent visitor at the parsonage, and a +visitor who could be received without any of that trouble that +attended the unfrequent comings of Griselda, the Marchioness, to the +home of her youth. And for this reason Mrs Grantly, terribly put out +as she was at the idea of a marriage between her son and one standing +so poorly in the world's esteem as Grace Crawley, would not have +brought forward the matter before her daughter, had she been left to +her own desires. A marchioness in one's family is a tower of +strength, no doubt; but there are counsellors so strong that we do +not wish to trust them, lest in the trusting we ourselves be +overwhelmed by their strength. Now Mrs Grantly was by no means +willing to throw her influence into the hands of her titled daughter.</p> + +<p>But the titled daughter was consulted and gave her advice. On the +occasion of the present visit to Plumstead she had consented to lay +her head for two nights on the parsonage pillows, and on the second +evening her brother the major was to come over from Cosby Lodge to +meet her. Before his coming the affair of Grace Crawley was +discussed.</p> + +<p>"It would break my heart, Griselda," said the archdeacon, +piteously—"and your mother's."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing against the girl's character," said Mrs Grantly, +"and the father and mother are gentlefolks by birth; but such a +marriage for Henry would be very unseemly."</p> + +<p>"To make it worse, there is this terrible story about him," said the +archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose there is much in that," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"I can't say. There is no knowing. They told me to-day in Barchester +that Soames is pressing the case against him."</p> + +<p>"Who is Soames, papa?" asked the marchioness.</p> + +<p>"He is Lord Lufton's man of business, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord Lufton's man of business!" There was something of a sneer +in the tone of the lady's voice as she mentioned Lord Lufton's name.</p> + +<p>"I am told," continued the archdeacon, "that Soames declares the +cheque was taken from a pocket-book which he left by accident in +Crawley's house."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say, archdeacon, that you think that Mr Crawley—a +clergyman—stole it!" said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"I don't say anything of the kind, my dear. But supposing Mr Crawley +to be as honest as the sun, you wouldn't wish Henry to marry his +daughter."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said the mother. "It would be an unfitting marriage. +The poor girl has no advantages."</p> + +<p>"He is not able even to pay his baker's bill. I always though Arabin +was very wrong to place such a man in such a parish as Hogglestock. +Of course the family could not live there." The Arabin here spoken of +was Dr Arabin, dean of Barchester. The dean and the archdeacon had +married sisters, and there was much intimacy between the families.</p> + +<p>"After all it is only rumour, as yet," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"Fothergill told me only yesterday, that he sees her almost every +day," said the father. "What are we to do, Griselda? You know how +headstrong Henry is." The marchioness sat quite still, looking at the +fire, and made no immediate answer to his address.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing for it, but that you should tell him what you +think," said the mother.</p> + +<p>"If his sister were to speak to him, it might do much," said the +archdeacon. To this Mrs Grantly said nothing; but Mrs Grantly's +daughter understood very well that her mother's confidence in her was +not equal to her father's. Lady Hartletop said nothing, but still +sat, with impassive face, and eyes fixed upon the fire. "I think that +if you were to speak to him, Griselda, and tell him that he would +disgrace his family, he would be ashamed to go on with such a +marriage," said the father. "He would feel, connected as he is with +Lord Hartletop<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I don't think he would feel anything about that," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"I dare say not," said Lady Hartletop.</p> + +<p>"I am sure he ought to feel it," said the father. They were all +silent, and sat looking at the fire.</p> + +<p>"I suppose, papa, you allow Henry an income," said Lady Hartletop, +after a while.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do,—eight hundred a year."</p> + +<p>"Then I think I should tell him that that must depend upon his +conduct. Mamma, if you won't mind ringing the bell, I will send for +Cecile, and go upstairs and dress." Then the marchioness went +upstairs to dress, and in about an hour the major arrived in his +dog-cart. He also was allowed to go upstairs to dress before anything +was said to him about his great offence.</p> + +<p>"Griselda is right," said the archdeacon, speaking to his wife out of +his dressing-room. "She is always right. I never knew a young woman +with more sense than Griselda."</p> + +<p>"But you do not mean to say that in any event you would stop Henry's +income?" Mrs Grantly also was dressing, and made reply out of her +bedroom.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I don't know. As a father I would do anything to +prevent such a marriage as that."</p> + +<p>"But if he did marry her in spite of the threat? And he would if he +had once said so."</p> + +<p>"Is a father's word, then, to go for nothing; and a father who allows +his son eight hundred a year? If he told the girl that he would be +ruined she couldn't hold him to it."</p> + +<p>"My dear, they'd know as well as I do, that you would give way after +three months."</p> + +<p>"But why should I give way? Good heavens—!"</p> + +<p>"Of course you'd give way, and of course we should have the young +woman here, and of course we should make the best of it."</p> + +<p>The idea of having Grace Crawley as a daughter at the Plumstead +Rectory was too much for the archdeacon, and he resented it by +additional vehemence to the tone of his voice, and a nearer personal +approach to the wife of his bosom. All unaccoutred as he was, he +stood in the doorway between the two rooms, and thence fulminated at +his wife his assurances that he would never allow himself to be +immersed in such a depth of humility as that she had suggested. "I +can tell you this, then, that if ever she comes here, I shall take +care to be away. I will never receive her here. You can do as you +please."</p> + +<p>"That is just what I cannot do. If I could do as I pleased, I would +put a stop to it at once."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that you want to encourage him. A child about sixteen +years of age!"</p> + +<p>"I am told she is nineteen."</p> + +<p>"What does it matter if she is fifty-nine? Think of what her bringing +up has been. Think what it would be to have all the Crawleys in our +house for ever, and all their debts, and all their disgrace!"</p> + +<p>"I do not know that they have ever been disgraced."</p> + +<p>"You'll see. The whole county has heard of the affair of this twenty +pounds. Look at that dear girl upstairs, who has been such a comfort +to us. Do you think it would be fit that she and her husband should +meet such a one as Grace Crawley at our table?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it would do them a bit of harm," said Mrs Grantly. +"But there would be no chance of that, seeing that Griselda's husband +never comes to us."</p> + +<p>"He was here the year before last."</p> + +<p>"And I never was so tired of a man in all my life."</p> + +<p>"Then you prefer the Crawleys, I suppose. This is what you get from +Eleanor's teaching." Eleanor was the dean's wife, and Mrs Grantly's +younger sister. "It has always been a sorrow to me that I ever +brought Arabin into the diocese."</p> + +<p>"I never asked you to bring him, archdeacon. But nobody was so glad +as you when he proposed to Eleanor."</p> + +<p>"Well, the long and short of it is this, I shall tell Henry to-night +that if he makes a fool of himself with this girl, he must not look +to me any longer for an income. He has about six hundred a year of +his own, and if he chooses to throw himself away, he had better go +and live in the south of France, or in Canada, or where he pleases. +He shan't come here."</p> + +<p>"I hope he won't marry the girl, with all my heart," said Mrs +Grantly.</p> + +<p>"He had better not. By heavens, he had better not!"</p> + +<p>"But if he does, you'll be the first to forgive him."</p> + +<p>On hearing this the archdeacon slammed the door, and retired to his +washing apparatus. At the present moment he was very angry with his +wife, but then he was so accustomed to such anger, and was so well +aware that it in truth meant nothing, that it did not make him +unhappy. The archdeacon and Mrs Grantly had now been man and wife for +more than a quarter of a century and had never in truth quarrelled. +He had the most profound respect for her judgment, and the most +implicit reliance on her conduct. She had never yet offended him, or +caused him to repent the hour in which he had made her Mrs Grantly. +But she had come to understand that she might use a woman's privilege +with her tongue; and she used it,—not altogether to his comfort. On +the present occasion he was the more annoyed because he felt that she +might be right. "It would be a positive disgrace, and I never would +see him again," he said to himself. And yet as he said it, he knew +that he would not have the strength of character to carry him through +a prolonged quarrel with his son. "I never would see her,—never, +never!" he said to himself. "And then such an opening as he might +have at his sister's house!"</p> + +<p>Major Grantly had been a successful man in life,—with the one +exception of having lost the mother of his child within a twelvemonth +of his marriage and within a few hours of that child's birth. He had +served in India as a very young man, and had been decorated with the +Victoria Cross. Then he had married a lady with some money, and had +left the active service of the army, with the concurring advice of +his own family and that of his wife. He had taken a small place in +his father's county, but the wife for whose comfort he had taken it +had died before she was permitted to see it. Nevertheless he had gone +to reside there, hunting a good deal and farming a little, making +himself popular in the district, and keeping up the good name of +Grantly in a successful way, till—alas,—it had seemed good to him +to throw those favouring eyes on poor Grace Crawley. His wife had now +been dead just two years, and he was still under thirty; no one could +deny it would be right that he should marry again. No one did deny +it. His father had hinted that he ought to do so, and had generously +whispered that if some little increase to the major's present income +were needed, he might possibly be able to do something. "What is the +good of keeping it?" the archdeacon had said in liberal after-dinner +warmth; "I only want it for your brother and yourself." The brother +was a clergyman.</p> + +<p>And the major's mother had strongly advised him to marry again +without loss of time. "My dear Henry," she had said, "you'll never be +younger, and youth does go for something. As for dear little Edith, +being a girl, she is almost no impediment. Do you know those two +girls at Chaldicotes?"</p> + +<p>"What, Mrs Thorne's nieces?"</p> + +<p>"No; they are not her nieces but her cousins. Emily Dunstable is very +handsome;—and as for money—!"</p> + +<p>"But what about birth, mother?"</p> + +<p>"One can't have everything, my dear."</p> + +<p>"As far as I am concerned, I should like to have everything or +nothing," the major said, laughing. Now for him to think of Grace +Crawley after that,—of Grace Crawley who had no money, and no +particular birth, and not even beauty itself,—so at least Mrs +Grantly said,—who had not even enjoyed the ordinary education of a +lady, was too bad. Nothing had been wanting to Emily Dunstable's +education, and it was calculated that she would have at least twenty +thousand pounds on the day of her marriage.</p> + +<p>The disappointment of the mother would be the more sore because she +had gone to work upon her little scheme with reference to Miss Emily +Dunstable, and had at first, as she thought, seen her way to +success,—to success in spite of the disparaging words which her son +had spoken to her. Mrs Thorne's house at Chaldicotes,—or Dr Thorne's +house as it should, perhaps, be more properly called, for Dr Thorne +was the husband of Mrs Thorne,—was in these days the pleasantest +house in Barsetshire. No one saw so much company as the Thornes, or +spent so much money in so pleasant a way. The great county families, +the Pallisers and the De Courcys, the Luftons and the Greshams, were +no doubt grander, and some of them were perhaps richer than the +Chaldicote Thornes,—as they were called to distinguish them from the +Thornes of Ullathorne; but none of these people were so pleasant in +their ways, so free in their hospitality, or so easy in their modes +of living, as the doctor and his wife. When first Chaldicotes, a very +old country seat, had by the chances of war fallen into their hands +and been newly furnished, and newly decorated, and newly gardened, +and newly greenhoused and hot-watered by them, many of the county +people had turned up their noses at them. Dear old Lady Lufton had +done so, and had been greatly grieved,—saying nothing, however, of +her grief, when her son and daughter-in-law had broken away from her, +and submitted themselves to the blandishments of the doctor's wife. +And the Grantlys had stood aloof, partly influenced, no doubt, by +their dear and intimate old friend Miss Monica Thorne of Ullathorne, +a lady of the very old school, who, though good as gold and kind as +charity, could not endure that an interloping Mrs Thorne, who never +had a grandfather, should come to honour and glory in the county, +simply because of her riches. Miss Monica Thorne stood out, but Mrs +Grantly gave way, and having once given way found that Dr Thorne, and +Mrs Thorne, and Emily Dunstable, and Chaldicote House together, were +very charming. And the major had been once there with her, and had +made himself very pleasant, and there had certainly been some little +passage of incipient love between him and Miss Dunstable, as to which +Mrs Thorne, who managed everything, seemed to be well pleased. This +had been after the first mention made by Mrs Grantly to her son of +Emily Dunstable's name, but before she had heard any faintest +whispers of his fancy for Grace Crawley; and she had therefore been +justified in hoping,—almost in expecting, that Emily Dunstable would +be her daughter-in-law, and was therefore the more aggrieved when +this terrible Crawley peril first opened itself before her eyes.</p> + + +<p><a name="c3" id="c3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> +<h3>The Archdeacon's Threat<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The dinner-party at the rectory comprised none but the Grantly +family. The marchioness had written to say that she preferred to have +it so. The father had suggested that the Thornes of Ullathorne, very +old friends, might be asked, and the Greshams from Boxall Hill, and +had even promised to endeavour to get old Lady Lufton over to the +rectory, Lady Lufton having in former years been Griselda's warm +friend. But Lady Hartletop had preferred to see her dear mother and +father in privacy. Her brother Henry she would be glad to meet, and +hoped to make some arrangement with him for a short visit to +Hartlebury, her husband's place in Shropshire,—as to which latter +hint, it may, however, be at once said, that nothing further was +spoken after the Crawley alliance had been suggested. And there had +been a very sore point mooted by the daughter in a request made by +her to her father that she might not be called upon to meet her +grandfather, her mother's father. Mr Harding, a clergyman of +Barchester, who was now stricken in years.—"Papa would not have +come," said Mrs Grantly, "but I think,—I do +think<span class="nowrap">—"</span> Then she +stopped herself.</p> + +<p>"Your father has odd ways sometimes, my dear. You know how fond I am +of having him here myself."</p> + +<p>"It does not signify," said Mrs Grantly. "Do not let us say anything +more about it. Of course we cannot have everything. I am told the +child does her duty in her sphere of life, and I suppose we ought to +be contented." Then Mrs Grantly went up to her own room, and there +she cried. Nothing was said to the major on the unpleasant subject of +the Crawleys before dinner. He met his sister in the drawing-room, +and was allowed to kiss her noble cheek. "I hope Edith is well, +Henry," said the sister. "Quite well; and little Dumbello is the +same, I hope?" "Thank you, yes; quite well." Then there seemed to be +nothing more to be said between the two. The major never made +inquiries after the august family, or would allow it to appear that +he was conscious of being shone upon by the wife of a marquis. Any +adulation which Griselda received of that kind came from her father, +and therefore, unconsciously she had learned to think that her father +was better bred than the other members of her family, and more fitted +by nature to move in that sacred circle to which she herself had been +exalted. We need not dwell upon the dinner, which was but a dull +affair. Mrs Grantly strove to carry on the family party exactly as it +would have been carried on had her daughter married the son of some +neighbouring squire; but she herself was conscious of the struggle, +and the fact of there being a struggle produced failure. The rector's +servants treated the daughter of the house with special awe, and the +marchioness herself moved, and spoke, and ate, and drank with a cold +magnificence, which I think had become a second nature with her, but +which was not on that account the less oppressive. Even the +archdeacon, who enjoyed something in that which was so disagreeable +to his wife, felt a relief when he was left alone after dinner with +his son. He felt relieved as his son got up to open the door for his +mother and sister, but was aware at the same time that he had before +him a most difficult and possibly a most disastrous task. His dear +son Henry was not a man to be talked smoothly out of, or into, any +propriety. He had a will of his own, and having hitherto been a +successful man, who in youth had fallen into few youthful +troubles,—who had never justified his father in using stern parental +authority,—was not now inclined to bend his neck. "Henry," said the +archdeacon, "what are you drinking? That's '34 port, but it's not +just what it should be. Shall I send for another bottle?"</p> + +<p>"It will do for me, sir. I shall only take a glass."</p> + +<p>"I shall drink two or three glasses of claret. But you young fellows +have become so desperately temperate."</p> + +<p>"We take our wine at dinner, sir."</p> + +<p>"By-the-bye, how well Griselda is looking."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she is. It's always easy for women to look well when they're +rich." How would Grace Crawley look, then, who was poor as poverty +itself, and who should remain poor, if his son was fool enough to +marry her? That was the train of thought which ran through the +archdeacon's mind. "I do not think much of riches," said he, "but it +is always well that a gentleman's wife or a gentleman's daughter +should have a sufficiency to maintain her position in life."</p> + +<p>"You may say the same, sir, of everybody's wife and everybody's +daughter."</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean, Henry."</p> + +<p>"I am not quite sure that I do, sir."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I had better speak out at once. A rumour has reached your +mother and me, which we don't believe for a moment, but which, +nevertheless, makes us unhappy even as a report. They say that there +is a young woman living in Silverbridge to whom you are becoming +attached."</p> + +<p>"Is there any reason why I should not become attached to a young +woman in Silverbridge?—though I hope any young woman to whom I may +become attached will be worthy at any rate of being called a young +lady."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, Henry; I hope so. I do hope so."</p> + +<p>"So much I will promise, sir; but I will promise nothing more."</p> + +<p>The archdeacon looked across at his son's face, and his heart sank +within him. His son's voice and his son's eyes seemed to tell him two +things. They seemed to tell him, firstly, that the rumour about Grace +Crawley was true; and, secondly, that the major was resolved not to +be talked out of his folly. "But you are not engaged to any one, are +you?" said the archdeacon. The son did not at first make any answer, +and then the father repeated the question. "Considering our mutual +positions, Henry, I think you ought to tell me if you are engaged."</p> + +<p>"I am not engaged. Had I become so, I should have taken the first +opportunity of telling you or my mother."</p> + +<p>"Thank God. Now, my dear boy, I can speak out more plainly. The young +woman whose name I have heard is daughter to that Mr Crawley who is +perpetual curate at Hogglestock. I knew that there could be nothing +in it."</p> + +<p>"But there is something in it, sir."</p> + +<p>"What is there in it? Do not keep me in suspense, Henry. What is it +you mean?"</p> + +<p>"It is rather hard to be cross-questioned in this way on such a +subject. When you express yourself as thankful that there is nothing +in the rumour, I am forced to stop you, as otherwise it is possible +that hereafter you may say that I have deceived you."</p> + +<p>"But you don't mean to marry her?"</p> + +<p>"I certainly do not pledge myself not to do so."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me, Henry, that you are in love with Miss +Crawley?" Then there was another pause, during which the archdeacon +sat looking for an answer; but the major never said a word. "Am I to +suppose that you intend to lower yourself by marrying a young woman +who cannot possibly have enjoyed any of the advantages of a lady's +education? I say nothing of the imprudence of the thing; nothing of +her own want of fortune; nothing of your having to maintain a whole +family steeped in poverty; nothing of the debts and character of the +father, upon whom, as I understand, at this moment there rests a very +grave suspicion of—of—of—what I'm afraid I must call downright +theft."</p> + +<p>"Downright theft, certainly, if he were guilty."</p> + +<p>"I say nothing of all that; but looking at the young woman +herself<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"She is simply the best educated girl whom it has ever been my lot to +meet."</p> + +<p>"Henry, I have a right to expect that you will be honest with me."</p> + +<p>"I am honest with you."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to ask this girl to marry you?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think that you have any right to ask me that question, +sir."</p> + +<p>"I have a right at any rate to tell you this, that if you so far +disgrace yourself and me, I shall consider myself bound to withdraw +from you all the sanction which would be conveyed by my—my—my +continued assistance."</p> + +<p>"Do you intend me to understand that you will stop my income?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I should."</p> + +<p>"Then, sir, I think you would behave to me most cruelly. You advised +me to give up my profession."</p> + +<p>"Not in order that you might marry Grace Crawley."</p> + +<p>"I claim the privilege of a man of my age to do as I please in such a +matter as marriage. Miss Crawley is a lady. Her father is a +clergyman, as is mine. Her father's oldest friend is my uncle. There +is nothing on earth against her except her poverty. I do not think I +ever heard of such cruelty on a father's part."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Henry."</p> + +<p>"I have endeavoured to do my duty by you, sir, always; and by my +mother. You can treat me in this way, if you please, but it will not +have any effect on my conduct. You can stop my allowance to-morrow, +if you like it. I had not as yet made up my mind to make an offer to +Miss Crawley, but I shall now do so to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>This was very bad indeed, and the archdeacon was extremely unhappy. +He was by no means at heart a cruel man. He loved his children +dearly. If this disagreeable marriage were to take place, he would +doubtless do exactly as his wife had predicted. He would not stop his +son's income for a single quarter; and, though he went on telling +himself that he would stop it, he knew in his own heart that any such +severity was beyond his power. He was a generous man in money +matters,—having a dislike for poverty which was not generous,—and +for his own sake could not have endured to see a son of his in want. +But he was terribly anxious to exercise the power which the use of +the threat might give him. "Henry," he said, "you are treating me +badly, very badly. My anxiety has always been for the welfare of my +children. Do you think that Miss Crawley would be a fitting +sister-in-law for that dear girl upstairs?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do, or for any other dear girl in the world; excepting +that Griselda, who is not clever, would hardly be able to appreciate +Miss Crawley, who is clever."</p> + +<p>"Griselda not clever! Good heavens!" Then there was another pause, +and as the major said nothing, the father continued his entreaties. +"Pray, pray think of what my wishes are, and your mother's. You are +not committed as yet. Pray think of us while there is time. I would +rather double your income if I saw you marry any one that we could +name here."</p> + +<p>"I have enough as it is, if I may only be allowed to know that it +will not be capriciously withdrawn." The archdeacon filled his glass +unconsciously, and sipped his wine, while he thought what further he +might say. Perhaps it might be better that he should say nothing +further at the present moment. The major, however, was indiscreet, +and pushed the question. "May I understand, sir, that your threat is +withdrawn, and that my income is secure?"</p> + +<p>"What, if you marry this girl?"</p> + +<p>"Yes sir; will my income be continued to me if I marry Miss Crawley?"</p> + +<p>"No, it will not." Then the father got up hastily, pushed the +decanter back angrily from his hand, and without saying another word +walked away into the drawing-room. That evening at the rectory was +very gloomy. The archdeacon now and again said a word or two to his +daughter, and his daughter answered him in monosyllables. The major +sat apart moodily, and spoke to no one. Mrs Grantly, understanding +well what had passed, knew that nothing could be done at the present +moment to restore family comfort; so she sat by the fire and knitted. +Exactly at ten they all went to bed.</p> + +<p>"Dear Henry," said the mother to her son the next morning; "think +much of yourself, and of your child, and of us, before you take any +great step in life."</p> + +<p>"I will, mother," said he. Then he went out and put on his wrapper, +and got into his dog-cart, and drove himself off to Silverbridge. He +had not spoken to his father since they were in the dining-room on +the previous evening. When he started, the marchioness had not yet +come downstairs; but at eleven she breakfasted, and at twelve she +also was taken away. Poor Mrs Grantly had not had much comfort from +her children's visits.</p> + + +<p><a name="c4" id="c4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> +<h3>The Clergyman's House at Hogglestock<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Mrs Crawley had walked from Hogglestock to Silverbridge on the +occasion of her visit to Mr Walker, the attorney, and had been kindly +sent back by that gentleman in his wife's little open carriage. The +tidings she brought home with her to her husband were very grievous. +The magistrates would sit on the next Thursday,—it was then +Friday,—and Mr Crawley had better appear before them to answer the +charge made by Mr Soames. He would be served with a summons, which he +could obey of his own accord. There had been many points very closely +discussed between Walker and Mrs Crawley, as to which there had been +great difficulty in the choice of words which should be tender enough +in regard to the feelings of the poor lady, and yet strong enough to +convey to her the very facts as they stood. Would Mr Crawley come, or +must a policeman be sent to fetch him? The magistrates had already +issued a warrant for his apprehension. Such in truth was the fact, +but they had agreed with Mr Walker, that as there was no reasonable +ground for anticipating any attempt at escape on the part of the +reverend gentleman, the lawyer might use what gentle means he could +for ensuring the clergyman's attendance. Could Mrs Crawley undertake +to say that he would appear? Mrs Crawley did undertake either that +her husband should appear on the Thursday, or else that she would +send over in the early part of the week and declare her inability to +ensure his appearance. In that case it was understood the policeman +must come. Then Mr Walker had suggested that Mr Crawley had better +employ a lawyer. Upon this Mrs Crawley had looked beseechingly up +into Mr Walker's face, and had asked him to undertake the duty. He +was of course obliged to explain that he was already employed on the +other side. Mr Soames had secured his services, and though he was +willing to do all in his power to mitigate the sufferings of the +family, he could not abandon the duty he had undertaken. He named +another attorney, however, and then sent the poor woman home in his +wife's carriage. "I fear that unfortunate man is guilty. I fear he +is," Mr Walker had said to his wife within ten minutes of the +departure of the visitor.</p> + +<p>Mrs Crawley would not allow herself to be driven up to the garden +gate before her own house, but had left the carriage some three +hundred yards off down the road, and from thence she walked home. It +was now quite dark. It was nearly six in the evening on a wet +December night, and although cloaks and shawls had been supplied to +her, she was wet and cold when she reached her home. But at such a +moment, anxious as she was to prevent the additional evil which would +come to them all from illness to herself, she could not pass through +to her room till she had spoken to her husband. He was sitting in the +one sitting-room on the left side of the passage as the house was +entered, and with him was their daughter Jane, a girl now nearly +sixteen years of age. There was no light in the room, and hardly more +than a spark of fire showed in the grate. The father was sitting on +one side of the hearth, in an old arm-chair, and there he had sat for +the last hour without speaking. His daughter had been in and out of +the room, and had endeavoured to gain his attention now and again by +a word, but he had never answered her, and had not even noticed her +presence. At the moment when Mrs Crawley's step was heard upon the +gravel which led to the door, Jane was kneeling before the fire with +a hand upon her father's arm. She had tried to get her hand into his, +but he had either been unaware of the attempt, or had rejected it.</p> + +<p>"Here is mamma, at last," said Jane, rising to her feet as her mother +entered the house.</p> + +<p>"Are you all in the dark," said Mrs Crawley, striving to speak in a +voice that should not be sorrowful.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma; we are in the dark. Papa is here. Oh, mamma, how wet you +are!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear. It is raining. Get a light out of the kitchen, Jane, and +I will go upstairs in two minutes." Then, when Jane was gone, the +wife made her way in the dark over to her husband's side, and spoke a +word to him. "Josiah," she said, "will you not speak to me?"</p> + +<p>"What should I speak about? Where have you been?"</p> + +<p>"I have been to Silverbridge. I have been to Mr Walker. He, at any +rate, is very kind."</p> + +<p>"I don't want his kindness. I want no man's kindness. Mr Walker is +the attorney, I believe. Kind indeed!"</p> + +<p>"I mean considerate. Josiah, let us do the best we can in this +trouble. We have had others as heavy before."</p> + +<p>"But none to crush me as this will crush me. Well; what am I to do? +Am I to go to prison—to-night?" At this moment his daughter returned +with a candle, and the mother could not make her answer at once. It +was a wretched, poverty-stricken room. By degrees the carpet had +disappeared, which had been laid down some nine or ten years since, +when they had first come to Hogglestock, and which even then had not +been new. Now nothing but a poor fragment of it remained in front of +the fireplace. In the middle of the room there was a table which had +once been large; but one flap of it was gone altogether, and the +other flap sloped grievously towards the floor, the weakness of old +age having fallen into its legs. There were two or three smaller +tables about, but they stood propped against walls, thence obtaining +a security which their own strength would not give them. At the +further end of the room there was an ancient piece of furniture, +which was always called "papa's secretary", at which Mr Crawley +customarily sat and wrote his sermons, and did all work that was done +by him within the house. The man who had made it, some time in the +last century, had intended it to be a locked guardian for domestic +documents, and the receptacle for all that was most private in the +house of some pater-familias. But beneath the hands of Mr Crawley it +always stood open; and with the exception of the small space at which +he wrote, was covered with dog's-eared books, from nearly all of +which the covers had disappeared. There were there two odd volumes of +Euripides, a Greek Testament, an Odyssey, a duodecimo Pindar, and a +miniature Anacreon. There was half a Horace,—the two first books of +the Odes at the beginning and the De Arte Poetica at the end having +disappeared. There was a little bit of a volume of Cicero, and there +were Caesar's Commentaries, in two volumes, so stoutly bound that +they had defied the combined ill-usage of time and the Crawley +family. All these were piled upon the secretary, with many +others,—odd volumes of sermons and the like; but the Greek and Latin +lay at the top, and showed signs of most frequent use. There was one +arm-chair in the room,—a Windsor chair, as such used to be called, +made soft by an old cushion in the back, in which Mr Crawley sat when +both he and his wife were in the room, and Mrs Crawley when he was +absent. And there was an old horsehair sofa,—now almost denuded of +its horsehair,—but that, like the tables, required the assistance of +a friendly wall. Then there was half a dozen of other chairs,—all of +different sorts,—and they completed the furniture of the room. It +was not such a room as one would wish to see inhabited by a beneficed +clergyman of the Church of England; but they who know what money will +do and what it will not, will understand how easily a man with a +family, and with a hundred and thirty pounds a year, may be brought +to the need of inhabiting such a chamber. When it is remembered that +three pounds of meat a day, at ninepence a pound, will cost over +forty pounds a year, there need be no difficulty in understanding +that it may be so. Bread for such a family must cost at least +twenty-five pounds. Clothes for five persons, of whom one must at any +rate wear the raiment of a gentleman, can hardly be found for less +than ten pounds a year a head. Then there remains fifteen pounds for +tea, sugar, beer, wages, education, amusements, and the like. In such +circumstances a gentleman can hardly pay much for the renewal of his +furniture!</p> + +<p>Mrs Crawley could not answer her husband's question before her +daughter, and was therefore obliged to make another excuse for again +sending her out of the room. "Jane, dear," she said, "bring my things +down to the kitchen and I will change them by the fire. I will be +there in two minutes, when I have had a word with your papa." The +girl went immediately and then Mrs Crawley answered her husband's +question. "No, my dear; there is no question of your going to +prison."</p> + +<p>"But there will be."</p> + +<p>"I have undertaken that you shall attend before the magistrates at +Silverbridge on Thursday next, at twelve o'clock. You will do that?"</p> + +<p>"Do it! You mean, I suppose, to say that I must go there. Is anybody +to come and fetch me?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody will come. Only you must promise that you will be there. I +have promised for you. You will go; will you not?" She stood leaning +over him, half embracing him, waiting for an answer; but for a while +he gave none. "You will tell me that you will do what I have +undertaken for you, Josiah?"</p> + +<p>"I think I would rather that they fetched me. I think that I will not +go myself."</p> + +<p>"And have policemen come for you into the parish! Mr Walker has +promised that he will send over his phaeton. He sent me home in it +to-day."</p> + +<p>"I want nobody's phaeton. If I go I will walk. If it were ten times +the distance, and though I had not a shoe left to my feet I would +walk. If I go there at all, of my own accord, I will walk there."</p> + +<p>"But you will go?"</p> + +<p>"What do I care for the parish? What matters who sees me now? I +cannot be degraded worse than I am. Everybody knows it."</p> + +<p>"There is no disgrace without guilt," said his wife.</p> + +<p>"Everybody thinks me guilty. I see it in their eyes. The children +know of it, and I hear whispers in the school. 'Mr Crawley has taken +some money.' I heard the girl say it myself."</p> + +<p>"What matters what the girl says?"</p> + +<p>"And yet you would have me go in a fine carriage to Silverbridge, as +though to a wedding. If I am wanted let them take me as they would +another. I shall be here for them,—unless I am dead."</p> + +<p>At this moment Jane appeared, pressing her mother to take off her wet +clothes, and Mrs Crawley went with her daughter to the kitchen. The +one red-armed young girl who was their only servant was sent away, +and then the mother and the child discussed how best they might +prevail with the head of the family. "But, mamma, it must come right; +must it not?"</p> + +<p>"I trust it will; I think it will. But I cannot see my way as yet."</p> + +<p>"Papa cannot have done anything wrong."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; he has done nothing wrong. He has made great mistakes, +and it is hard to make people understand that he has not +intentionally spoken untruths. He is ever thinking of other things, +about the school, and his sermons, and he does not remember."</p> + +<p>"And about how poor we are, mamma."</p> + +<p>"He has much to occupy his mind, and he forgets things which dwell in +the memory with other people. He said that he had got his money from +Mr Soames, and of course he thought that it was so."</p> + +<p>"And where did he get it, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Ah,—I wish I knew. I should have said that I had seen every +shilling that came into the house; but I know nothing of this +cheque,—whence it came."</p> + +<p>"But will not papa tell you?"</p> + +<p>"He would tell me if he knew. He thinks it came from the dean."</p> + +<p>"And are you sure it did not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; quite sure; as sure as I can be of anything. The dean told me +he would give him fifty pounds, and the fifty pounds came. I had them +in my own hands. And he has written to say that it was so."</p> + +<p>"But couldn't this be part of the fifty pounds?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear, no."</p> + +<p>"Then where did papa get it? Perhaps he picked it up and has +forgotten?"</p> + +<p>To this Mrs Crawley made no reply. The idea that the cheque had been +found by her husband,—had been picked up as Jane had said,—had +occurred also to Jane's mother. Mr Soames was confident that he had +dropped the pocket-book at the parsonage. Mrs Crawley had always +disliked Mr Soames, thinking him to be hard, cruel, and vulgar. She +would not have hesitated to believe him guilty of a falsehood, or +even of direct dishonesty, if by so believing she could in her own +mind have found the means of reconciling her husband's possession of +the cheque with absolute truth on his part. But she could not do so. +Even though Soames had, with devilish premeditated malice, slipped +the cheque into her husband's pocket, his having done so would not +account for her husband's having used the cheque when he found it +there. She was driven to make excuses for him which, valid as they +might be with herself, could not be valid with others. He had said +that Mr Soames had paid the cheque to him. That was clearly a +mistake. He had said that the cheque had been given to him by the +dean. That was clearly another mistake. She knew, or thought she +knew, that he, being such as he was, might make such blunders as +these, and yet be true. She believed that such statements might be +blunders and not falsehoods,—so convinced was she that her husband's +mind would not act at all times as do the minds of other men. But +having such a conviction she was driven to believe also that almost +anything might be possible. Soames may have been right, or he might +have dropped, not the book, but the cheque. She had no difficulty in +presuming Soames to be wrong in any detail, if by so supposing she +could make the exculpation of her husband easier to herself. If +villainy on the part of Soames was needful to her theory, Soames +would become to her a villain at once,—of the blackest dye. Might it +not be possible that the cheque having thus fallen into her husband's +hands, he had come, after a while, to think that it had been sent to +him by his friend, the dean? And if it were so, would it be possible +to make others so believe? That there was some mistake which would be +easily explained were her husband's mind lucid at all points, but +which she could not explain because of the darkness of his mind, she +was thoroughly convinced. But were she herself to put forward such a +defence on her husband's part, she would in doing so be driven to say +that he was a lunatic,—that he was incapable of managing the affairs +of himself or his family. It seemed to her that she would be +compelled to have him proved to be either a thief or a madman. And +yet she knew that he was neither. That he was not a thief was as +clear to her as the sun at noonday. Could she have lain on this man's +bosom for twenty years, and not yet have learned the secrets of the +heart beneath? The whole mind of the man was, as she told herself, +within her grasp. He might have taken the twenty pounds; he might +have taken it and spent it, though it was not his own; but yet he was +no thief. Nor was he a madman. No man more sane in preaching the +gospel of his Lord, in making intelligible to the ignorant the +promises of his Saviour, ever got into a parish pulpit, or taught in +a parish school. The intellect of the man was as clear as running +water in all things not appertaining to his daily life and its +difficulties. He could be logical with a vengeance,—so logical as to +cause infinite trouble to his wife, who, with all her good sense, was +not logical. And he had Greek at his fingers' ends,—as his daughter +knew very well. And even to this day he would sometimes recite to +them English poetry, lines after lines, stanzas upon stanzas, in a +sweet low melancholy voice, on long winter evenings when occasionally +the burden of his troubles would be lighter to him than was usual. +Books in Latin and in French he read with as much ease as in English, +and took delight in such as came to him, when he would condescend to +accept such loans from the deanery. And there was at times a +lightness of heart about the man. In the course of the last winter he +had translated into Greek irregular verse the very noble ballad of +Lord Bateman, maintaining the rhythm and the rhyme, and had repeated +it with uncouth glee till his daughter knew it all by heart. And when +there had come to him a five-pound note from some admiring magazine +editor as the price of the same,—still through the dean's hands,—he +had brightened up his heart and had thought for an hour or two that +even yet the world would smile upon him. His wife knew well that he +was not mad; but yet she knew that there were dark moments with him, +in which his mind was so much astray that he could not justly be +called to account as to what he might remember and what he might +forget. How would it be possible to explain all this to a judge and +jury, so that they might neither say that he was dishonest, nor yet +that he was mad? "Perhaps he picked it up, and had forgotten," her +daughter said to her. Perhaps it was so, but she might not as yet +admit as much even to her child.</p> + +<p>"It is a mystery, dear, as yet, which, with God's aid, will be +unravelled. Of one thing we at least may be sure; that your papa has +not wilfully done anything wrong."</p> + +<p>"Of course we are sure of that, mamma."</p> + +<p>Mrs Crawley had many troubles during the next four or five days, of +which the worst, perhaps, had reference to the services of the Sunday +which intervened between the day of her visit to Silverbridge, and +the sitting of the magistrates. On the Saturday it was necessary that +he should prepare his sermons, of which he preached two on every +Sunday, though his congregation consisted only of farmers, +brickmakers, and agricultural labourers, who would willingly have +dispensed with the second. Mrs Crawley proposed to send over to Mr +Robarts, a neighbouring clergyman, for the loan of a curate. Mr +Robarts was a warm friend to the Crawleys, and in such an emergency +would probably have come himself; but Mr Crawley would not hear of +it. The discussion took place early on the Saturday morning, before +it was as yet daylight, for the poor woman was thinking day and night +of her husband's troubles, and it had this good effect, that +immediately after breakfast he seated himself at his desk, and worked +at his task as though he had forgotten all else in the world.</p> + +<p>And on the Sunday morning he went into his school before the hour of +the church service, as had been his wont, and taught there as though +everything with him was as usual. Some of the children were absent, +having heard of their teacher's tribulation, and having been told +probably that he would remit his work; and for these absent ones he +sent in great anger. The poor bairns came creeping in, for he was a +man who by his manners had been able to secure their obedience in +spite of his poverty. And he preached to the people of his parish on +that Sunday, as he had always preached; eagerly, clearly, and with an +eloquence fitted for the hearts of such an audience. No one would +have guessed from his tones and gestures and appearance on that +occasion, that there was aught wrong with him,—unless there had been +some observer keen enough to perceive that the greater care which he +used, and the special eagerness of his words, denoted a special frame +of mind.</p> + +<p>After that, after those church services were over, he sank again and +never roused himself till the dreaded day had come.</p> + + +<p><a name="c5" id="c5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> +<h3>What the World Thought About It<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Opinion in Silverbridge, at Barchester, and throughout the county, +was very much divided as to the guilt or innocence of Mr Crawley. Up +to the time of Mrs Crawley's visit to Silverbridge, the affair had +not been much discussed. To give Mr Soames his due, he had been by no +means anxious to press the matter against the clergyman; but he had +been forced to go on with it. While the first cheque was missing, +Lord Lufton had sent him a second cheque for the money, and the loss +had thus fallen upon his lordship. The cheque had of course been +traced, and inquiry had of course been made as to Mr Crawley's +possession of it. When that gentleman declared that he had received +it from Mr Soames, Mr Soames had been forced to contradict and to +resent such an assertion. When Mr Crawley had afterwards said that the +money had come to him from the dean, and when the dean had shown that +this also was untrue, Mr Soames, confident as he was that he had +dropped the pocket-book at Mr Crawley's house, could not but continue +the investigation. He had done so with as much silence as the nature +of the work admitted. But by the day of the magistrates' meeting at +Silverbridge, the subject had become common through the county, and +men's minds were very much divided.</p> + +<p>All Hogglestock believed their parson to be innocent; but then all +Hogglestock believed him to be mad. At Silverbridge the tradesmen +with whom he had dealt, and to whom he had owed, and still owed, +money, all declared him to be innocent. They knew something of the +man personally, and could not believe him to be a thief. All the +ladies in Silverbridge, too, were sure of his innocence. It was to +them impossible that such a man should have stolen twenty pounds. "My +dear," said the eldest Miss Prettyman to poor Grace Crawley, "in +England, where the laws are good, no gentleman is ever made out to be +guilty when he is innocent; and your papa, of course, is innocent. +Therefore you should not trouble yourself." "It will break papa's +heart," Grace had said, and she did trouble herself. But the +gentlemen in Silverbridge were made of sterner stuff, and believed +the man to be guilty, clergyman and gentleman though he was. Mr +Walker, who among the lights in Silverbridge was the leading light, +would not speak a word upon the subject to anybody; and then +everybody, who was anybody, knew that Mr Walker was convinced of the +man's guilt. Had Mr Walker believed him to be innocent, his tongue +would have been ready enough. John Walker, who was in the habit of +laughing at his father's good nature, had no doubt upon the subject. +Mr Winthrop, Mr Walker's partner, shook his head. People did not +think much of Mr Winthrop, excepting certain unmarried ladies; for Mr +Winthrop was a bachelor, and had plenty of money. People did not +think much of Mr Winthrop; but still on this subject he might know +something, and when he shook his head he manifestly intended to +indicate guilt. And Dr Tempest, the rector of Silverbridge, did not +hesitate to declare his belief in the guilt of the incumbent of +Hogglestock. No man reverences a clergyman, as a clergyman, so +slightly as a brother clergyman. To Dr Tempest it appeared to be +neither very strange nor very terrible that Mr Crawley should have +stolen twenty pounds. "What is a man to do," he said, "when he sees +his children starving? He should not have married on such a +preferment as that." Mr Crawley had married, however, long before he +got the living of Hogglestock.</p> + +<p>There were two Lady Luftons,—mother-in-law and daughter-in-law,—who +at this time were living together at Framley Hall, Lord Lufton's seat +in the county of Barset, and they were both thoroughly convinced of +Mr Crawley's innocence. The elder lady had lived much among +clergymen, and could hardly, I think, by any means have been brought +to believe in the guilt of any man who had taken upon himself the +orders of the Church of England. She had also known Mr Crawley +personally for some years, and was one of those who could not admit +to herself that any one was vile who had been near to herself. She +believed intensely in the wickedness of the outside world, of the +world which was far away from herself, and of which she never saw +anything; but they who were near to her, and who had even become dear +to her, or who even had been respected by her, were made, as it were, +saints in her imagination. They were brought into the inner circle, +and could hardly be expelled. She was an old woman who thought all +evil of those she did not know, and all good of those whom she did +know; and as she did know Mr Crawley, she was quite sure that he had +not stolen Mr Soames's twenty pounds. She did know Mr Soames also; +and thus there was a mystery for the unravelling of which she was +very anxious. And the young Lady Lufton was equally sure, and perhaps +with better reason for such certainty. She had, in truth, known more +of Mr Crawley personally, than had any one in the county, unless it +was the dean. The younger Lady Lufton, the present Lord Lufton's +wife, had sojourned at one time in Mr Crawley's house, amidst the +Crawley poverty, living as they lived, and nursing Mrs Crawley +through an illness which had wellnigh been fatal to her; and the +younger Lady Lufton believed in Mr Crawley,—as Mr Crawley also +believed in her.</p> + +<p>"It is quite impossible, my dear," the old woman said to her +daughter-in-law.</p> + +<p>"Quite impossible, my lady." The dowager was always called "my lady", +both by her own daughter and by her son's wife, except in the +presence of their children, when she was addressed as "grandmamma". +"Think how well I knew him. It's no use talking of evidence. No +evidence would make me believe it."</p> + +<p>"Nor me; and I think it a great shame that such a report should be +spread about."</p> + +<p>"I suppose Mr Soames could not help himself?" said the younger lady, +who was not herself very fond of Mr Soames.</p> + +<p>"Ludovic says that he has only done what he was obliged to do." The +Ludovic spoken of was Lord Lufton.</p> + +<p>This took place in the morning, but in the evening the affair was +again discussed at Framley Court. Indeed, for some days, there was +hardly any other subject held to be worthy of discussion in the +county. Mr Robarts, the clergyman of the parish and the brother of +the younger Lady Lufton, was dining at the hall with his wife, and +the three ladies had together expressed their perfect conviction of +the falseness of the accusation. But when Lord Lufton and Mr Robarts +were together after the ladies had left them, there was much less of +this certainty expressed. "By Jove," said Lord Lufton, "I don't know +what to think of it. I wish with all my heart that Soames had said +nothing about it, and that the cheque had passed without remark."</p> + +<p>"That was impossible. When the banker sent to Soames, he was obliged +to take the matter up."</p> + +<p>"Of course he was. But I'm sorry that it was so. For the life of me I +can't conceive how the cheque got into Crawley's hands."</p> + +<p>"I imagine that it had been lying in the house, and that Crawley had +come to think that it was his own."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Mark," said Lord Lufton, "excuse me if I say that +that's nonsense. What do we do when a poor man has come to think that +another man's property is his own? We send him to prison for making +the mistake."</p> + +<p>"I hope they won't send Crawley to prison."</p> + +<p>"I hope so too; but what is a jury to do?"</p> + +<p>"You think it will go to a jury, then?"</p> + +<p>"I do," said Lord Lufton. "I don't see how the magistrates can save +themselves from committing him. It is one of those cases in which +every one concerned would wish to drop it if it were only possible. +But it is not possible. On the evidence, as one sees it at present, +one is bound to say that it is a case for a jury."</p> + +<p>"I believe that he is mad," said the brother parson.</p> + +<p>"He always was, as far as I could learn," said the lord. "I never +knew him, myself. You do, I think?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I know him." and the vicar of Framley became silent and +thoughtful as the memory of a certain interview between himself and +Mr Crawley came back upon his mind. At that time the waters had +nearly closed over his head and Mr Crawley had given him some +assistance. When the gentlemen had again found the ladies, they kept +their own doubts to themselves; for at Framley Hall, as at present +tenanted, female voices and female influences predominated over those +which came from the other sex.</p> + +<p>At Barchester, the cathedral city of the county in which the Crawleys +lived, opinion was violently against Mr Crawley. In the city Mrs +Proudie, the wife of the bishop, was the leader of opinion in +general, and she was very strong in her belief in the man's guilt. +She had known much of clergymen all her life, as it behoved a +bishop's wife to do, and she had none of that mingled weakness and +ignorance which taught so many ladies in Barsetshire to suppose that +an ordained clergyman could not become a thief. She hated old Lady +Lufton with all her heart, and old Lady Lufton hated her as warmly. +Mrs Proudie would say frequently that Lady Lufton was a conceited old +idiot, and Lady Lufton would declare as frequently that Mrs Proudie +was a vulgar virago. It was known at the palace in Barchester that +kindness had been shown to the Crawleys by the family at Framley +Hall, and this alone would have been sufficient to make Mrs Proudie +believe that Mr Crawley could have been guilty of any crime. And as +Mrs Proudie believed, so did the bishop believe. "It is a terrible +disgrace to the diocese," said the bishop, shaking his head, and +patting his apron as he sat by his study fire.</p> + +<p>"Fiddlestick!" said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear,—a beneficed clergyman!"</p> + +<p>"You must get rid of him; that's all. You must be firm whether he be +acquitted or convicted."</p> + +<p>"But if he be acquitted, I cannot get rid of him, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can, if you are firm. And you must be firm. Is it not true +that he has been disgracefully involved in debt ever since he has +been there; that you have been pestered by letters from unfortunate +tradesmen who cannot get their money from him?"</p> + +<p>"That is true, my dear, certainly."</p> + +<p>"And is that kind of thing to go on? He cannot come to the palace as +all clergymen should do, because he has got no clothes to come in. I +saw him once about the lanes, and I never set my eyes on such an +object in all my life! I would not believe that the man was a +clergyman till John told me. He is a disgrace to the diocese, and he +must be got rid of. I feel sure of his guilt, and I hope he will be +convicted. One is bound to hope that a guilty man should be +convicted. But if he escape conviction, you must sequestrate the +living because of the debts. The income is enough to get an excellent +curate. It would just do for Thumble." To all of which the bishop +made no further reply, but simply nodded his head and patted his +apron. He knew that he could not do exactly what his wife required of +him; but if it should so turn out that poor Crawley was found to be +guilty, then the matter would be comparatively easy.</p> + +<p>"It should be an example to us, that we should look to our own steps, +my dear," said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"That's all very well," said Mrs Proudie, "but it has become your +duty, and mine too, to look to the steps of other people; and that +duty we must do."</p> + +<p>"Of course, my dear; of course." That was the tone in which the +question of Mr Crawley's alleged guilt was discussed at the palace.</p> + +<p>We have already heard what was said on the subject at the house of +Archdeacon Grantly. As the days passed by, and as other tidings came +in, confirmatory of those which had before reached him, the +archdeacon felt himself unable not to believe in the man's guilt. And +the fear which he entertained as to his son's intended marriage with +Grace Crawley, tended to increase the strength of his belief. Dr +Grantly had been a very successful man in the world, and on all +ordinary occasions had been able to show that bold front with which +success endows a man. But he still had his moments of weakness, and +feared greatly lest anything of misfortune should touch him, and mar +the comely roundness of his prosperity. He was very wealthy. The wife +of his bosom had been to him all that a wife should be. His +reputation in the clerical world stood very high. He had lived all +his life on terms of equality with the best of the gentry around him. +His only daughter had made a splendid marriage. His two sons had +hitherto done well in the world, not only as regarded their +happiness, but as to marriage also, and as to social standing. But +how great would be the fall if his son should at last marry the +daughter of a convicted thief! How would the Proudies rejoice over +him,—the Proudies who had been crushed to the ground by the success +of the Hartletop alliance; and how would the low-church curates, who +swarmed in Barsetshire, gather together and scream in delight over +his dismay! "But why should we say that he is guilty?" said Mrs +Grantly.</p> + +<p>"It hardly matters as far as we are concerned, whether they find him +guilty or not," said the archdeacon; "if Henry marries that girl my +heart will be broken."</p> + +<p>But perhaps to no one except the Crawleys themselves had the matter +caused so much terrible anxiety as to the archdeacon's son. He had +told his father that he had made no offer of marriage to Grace +Crawley, and he had told the truth. But there are perhaps few men who +make such offers in direct terms without having already said and done +that which make such offers simply necessary as the final closing of +an accepted bargain. It was so at any rate between Major Grantly and +Miss Crawley, and Major Grantly acknowledged to himself that it was +so. He acknowledged also to himself that as regarded Grace herself he +had no wish to go back from his implied intentions. Nothing that +either his father or mother might say would shake him in that. But +could it be his duty to bind himself to the family of a convicted +thief? Could it be right that he should disgrace his father and his +mother and his sister and his one child by such a connexion? He had a +man's heart, and the poverty of the Crawleys caused him no +solicitude. But he shrank from the contamination of a prison.</p> + + +<p><a name="c6" id="c6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> +<h3>Grace Crawley<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It has already been said that Grace Crawley was at this time living +with the two Miss Prettymans, who kept a girls' school at +Silverbridge. Two more benignant ladies than the Miss Prettymans +never presided over such an establishment. The younger was fat, and +fresh, and fair, and seemed to be always running over with the milk +of human kindness. The other was very thin and very small, and +somewhat afflicted with bad health;—was weak, too, in the eyes, and +subject to racking headaches, so that it was considered generally +that she was unable to take much active part in the education of the +pupils. But it was considered as generally that she did all the +thinking, that she knew more than any other woman in Barsetshire, and +that all the Prettyman schemes for education emanated from her mind. +It was said, too, by those who knew them best, that her sister's +good-nature was as nothing to hers; that she was the most charitable, +the most loving, and the most conscientious of schoolmistresses. This +was Miss Annabella Prettyman, the elder; and perhaps it may be +inferred that some portion of her great character for virtue may have +been due to the fact that nobody ever saw her out of her own house. +She could not even go to church, because the open air brought on +neuralgia. She was therefore perhaps taken to be magnificent, partly +because she was unknown. Miss Anne Prettyman, the younger, went about +frequently to tea-parties,—would go, indeed, to any party to which +she might be invited; and was known to have a pleasant taste for +poundcake and sweetmeats. Being seen so much in the outer world, she +became common, and her character did not stand so high as did that of +her sister. Some people were ill-natured enough to say that she +wanted to marry Mr Winthrop; but of what maiden lady that goes out +into the world are not such stories told? And all such stories in +Silverbridge were told with special reference to Mr Winthrop.</p> + +<p>Miss Crawley, at present, lived with the Miss Prettymans, and +assisted them in the school. This arrangement had been going on for +the last twelve months, since the time in which Grace would have left +the school in the natural course of things. There had been no bargain +made, and no intention that Grace should stay. She had been invited +to fill the place of an absent superintendent, first, for one month, +then for another, and then for two more months; and when the +assistant came back, the Miss Prettymans thought there were reasons +why Grace should be asked to remain a little longer. But they took +great care to let the fashionable world of Silverbridge know that +Grace Crawley was a visitor with them, and not a teacher. "We pay her +no salary, or anything of that kind," said Miss Anne Prettyman; a +statement, however, which was by no means true, for during those four +months the regular stipend had been paid to her; and twice since +then, Miss Annabella Prettyman, who managed all the money matters, +had called Grace into her little room, and had made a little speech, +and had put a little bit of paper into her hand. "I know I ought not +to take it," Grace had said to her friend Anne. "If I was not here, +there would be no one in my place." "Nonsense, my dear," Anne +Prettyman had said; "it is the greatest comfort to us in the world. +And you should make yourself nice, you know, for his sake. All the +gentlemen like it." Then Grace had been very angry, and had sworn +that she would give the money back again. Nevertheless, I think she +did make herself as nice as she knew how to do. And from all this it +may be seen that the Miss Prettymans had hitherto quite approved of +Major Grantly's attentions.</p> + +<p>But when this terrible affair came on about the cheque which had been +lost and found and traced to Mr Crawley's hands, Miss Anne Prettyman +said nothing further to Grace Crawley about Major Grantly. It was not +that she thought that Mr Crawley was guilty, but she knew enough of +the world to be aware that suspicion of such guilt might compel such +a man as Major Grantly to change his mind. "If he had only popped," +Anne said to her sister, "it would have been all right. He would +never have gone back from his word." "My dear," said Annabella, "I +wish you would not talk about popping. It is a terrible word." "I +shouldn't, to any one except you," said Anne.</p> + +<p>There had come to Silverbridge some few months since, on a visit to +Mrs Walker, a young lady from Allington, in the neighbouring county, +between whom and Grace Crawley there had grown up from circumstances +a warm friendship. Grace had a cousin in London,—a clerk high up and +well-to-do in a public office, a nephew of her mother's,—and this +cousin was, and for years had been, violently smitten in love for +this young lady. But the young lady's tale had been sad, and though +she acknowledged feelings of the most affectionate friendship for the +cousin, she could not bring herself to acknowledge more. Grace +Crawley had met the young lady at Silverbridge, and words had been +spoken about the cousin; and though the young lady from Allington was +some years older than Grace, there had grown up to be a friendship, +and, as is not uncommon between young ladies, there had been an +agreement that they would correspond. The name of the lady was Miss +Lily Dale, and the name of the well-to-do cousin was Mr John Eames.</p> + +<p>At the present moment Miss Dale was at home with her mother at +Allington, and Grace Crawley in her terrible sorrow wrote to her +friend, pouring out her whole heart. As Grace's letter and Miss +Dale's answer will assist us in our story, I will venture to give +them both.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Silverbridge</span>, +–– December, 186––</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Lily</span>,</p> + +<p>I hardly know how to tell you what has happened, it is so +very terrible. But perhaps you will have heard it already, +as everybody is talking of it here. It has got into the +newspapers, and therefore it cannot be kept secret. Not +that I should keep anything from you; only this is so very +dreadful that I hardly know how to write it. Somebody +says,—a Mr Soames, I believe it is,—that papa has taken +some money that does not belong to him, and he is to be +brought before the magistrates and tried. Of course papa +has done nothing wrong. I do think he would be the last +man in the world to take a penny that did not belong to +him. You know how poor he is; what a life he has had! But +I think he would almost sooner see mamma starving;—I am +sure he would rather be starved himself, then even borrow +a shilling which he could not pay. To suppose that he +would take money [she had tried to write the word "steal" +but she could not bring her pen to form the letters] is +monstrous. But, somehow, the circumstances have been made +to look bad against him, and they say that he must come +over here to the magistrates. I often think that of all +men in the world papa is the most unfortunate. Everything +seems to go against him, and yet he is so good! Poor mamma +has been over here, and she is distracted. I never saw her +so wretched before. She had been to your friend Mr Walker, +and came to me afterwards for a minute. Mr Walker has got +something to do with it, though mamma says she thinks he +is quite friendly to papa. I wonder whether you could find +out, through Mr Walker, what he thinks about it. Of +course, mamma knows that papa has done nothing wrong; but +she says that the whole thing is most mysterious, and that +she does not know how to account for the money. Papa, you +know, is not like other people. He forgets things; and is +always thinking, thinking, thinking of his great +misfortunes. Poor papa! My heart bleeds so when I remember +all his sorrows, that I hate myself for thinking about +myself.</p> + +<p>When mamma left me,—and it was then I first knew that +papa would really have to be tried,—I went to Miss +Annabella, and told her that I would go home. She asked me +why, and I said I would not disgrace her house by staying +in it. She got up and took me in her arms, and there came +a tear out of both her dear old eyes, and she said that if +anything evil came to papa,—which she would not believe, +as she knew him to be a good man,—there should be a home +in her house not only for me, but for mamma and Jane. +Isn't she a wonderful woman? When I think of her, I +sometimes think that she must be an angel already. Then +she became very serious,—for just before, through her +tears, she had tried to smile,—and she told me to +remember that all people could not be like her, who had +nobody to look to but herself and her sister; and that at +present I must task myself not to think of that which I +had been thinking of before. She did not mention anybody's +name, but of course I understood very well what she meant; +and I suppose she is right. I said nothing in answer to +her, for I could not speak. She was holding my hand, and I +took hers up and kissed it, to show her, if I could, that +I knew that she was right; but I could not have spoken +about it for all the world. It was not ten days since that +she herself, with all her prudence, told me that she +thought I ought to make up my mind what answer I would +give him. And then I did not say anything; but of course +she knew. And after that Miss Anne spoke quite freely +about it, so that I had to beg her to be silent even +before the girls. You know how imprudent she is. But it is +all over now. Of course Miss Annabella is right. He has +got a great many people to think of; his father and +mother, and his darling little Edith, whom he brought here +twice, and left her with us once for two days, so that she +got to know me quite well; and I took such a love for her, +that I could not bear to part with her. But I think +sometimes that all our family are born to be unfortunate, +and then I tell myself that I will never hope for anything +again.</p> + +<p>Pray write to me soon. I feel as though nothing on earth +could comfort me, and yet I shall like to have your +letter. Dear, dear Lily, I am not even yet so wretched but +what I shall rejoice to be told good news of you. If it +only could be as John wishes it! And why should it not? It +seems to me that nobody has a right or a reason to by +unhappy except us. Good-by, dearest Lily,</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your affectionate friend,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Grace Crawley</span>.</p> + +<p class="nodindent">P.S.—I think I have made +up my mind that I will go back +to Hogglestock at once if the magistrates decide against +papa. I think I should be doing the school harm if I were +to stay here.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + +<p>The answer to this letter did not reach Miss Crawley till after the +magistrates' meeting on the Thursday, but it will be better for our +story that it should be given here than postponed until the result of +that meeting shall have been told. Miss Dale's answer was as +follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Allington</span>, +–– December, 186––</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Grace</span>,</p> + +<p>Your letter has made me very unhappy. If it can at all +comfort you to know that mamma and I sympathise with you +altogether, in that you may at any rate be sure. But in +such troubles nothing will give comfort. They must be +borne, till the fire of misfortune burns itself out.</p> + +<p>I had heard about the affair a day or two before I got +your note. Our clergyman, Mr Boyce, told us of it. Of +course we all know that the charge must be altogether +unfounded, and mamma says that the truth will be sure to +show itself at last. But that conviction does not cure the +evil, and I can well understand that your father should +suffer grievously; and I pity your mother quite as much as +I do him.</p> + +<p>As for Major Grantly, if he be such a man as I took him to +be from the little I saw of him, all this would make no +difference to him. I am sure that it ought to make none. +Whether it should not make a difference in you is another +question. I think it should; and I think your answer to +him should be that you could not even consider any such +proposition while your father was in so great trouble. I +am so much older than you, and seem to have had so much +experience, that I do not scruple, as you will see, to +come down upon you with all the weight of my wisdom.</p> + +<p>About that other subject I had rather say nothing. I have +known your cousin all my life, almost; and I regard no one +more kindly than I do him. When I think of my friends, he +is always one of the dearest. But when one thinks of +going beyond friendship, even if one tries to do so, there +are so many barriers!</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your affectionate friend,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Lily Dale</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Mamma bids me say that she would be delighted to have you +here whenever it might suit you to come; and I add to this +message my entreaty that you will come at once. You say +that you think you ought to leave Miss Prettyman's for a +while. I can well understand your feeling; but as your +sister is with your mother, surely you had better come to +us,—I mean quite at once. I will not scruple to tell you +what mamma says, because I know your good sense. She says +that as the interest of the school may possibly be +concerned, and as you have no regular engagement, she +thinks you ought to leave Silverbridge; but she says that +it will be better that you come to us than that you should +go home. If you went home, people might say that you had +left in some sort of disgrace. Come to us, and when all +this has been put right, then you go back to Silverbridge; +and then, if a certain person speaks again, you can make a +different answer. Mamma quite understands that you are to +come; so you have only got to ask your own mamma, and come +at once.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This letter, as the reader will understand, did not reach Grace +Crawley till after the all-important Thursday; but before that day +had come round, Grace had told Miss Prettyman,—had told both the +Miss Prettymans,—that she was resolved to leave them. She had done +this without even consulting her mother, driven to it by various +motives. She knew that her father's conduct was being discussed by +the girls in the school, and that things were said of him which it +could not but be for the disadvantage of Miss Prettyman that any one +should say of a teacher in her establishment. She felt, too, that she +could not hold up her head in Silverbridge in these days, as it would +become her to do if she retained her position. She did struggle +gallantly, and succeeded much more nearly than she was herself aware. +She was all but able to carry herself as though no terrible +accusation was being made against her father. Of the struggle, +however, she was not herself the less conscious, and she told herself +that on that account also she must go. And then she must go also +because of Major Grantly. Whether he was minded to come and speak to +her that one other needed word, or whether he was not so minded, it +would be better that she should be away from Silverbridge. If he +spoke it she could only answer him by a negative; and if he were +minded not to speak it, would it not be better that she should leave +herself the power of thinking that his silence had been caused by her +absence, and not by his coldness or indifference?</p> + +<p>She asked, therefore, for an interview with Miss Prettyman, and was +shown into the elder sister's room, at eleven o'clock on the Tuesday +morning. The elder Miss Prettyman never came into the school herself +till twelve, but was in the habit of having interviews with the young +ladies,—which were sometimes very awful in their nature,—for the +two previous hours. During these interviews an immense amount of +business was done, and the fortunes in life of some girls were said +to have been there made or marred; as when, for instance, Miss +Crimpton had been advised to stay at home with her uncle in England, +instead of going out with her sisters to India, both of which sisters +were married within three months of their landing in Bombay. The way +in which she gave her counsel on such occasions was very efficacious. +No one knew better than Miss Prettyman that a cock can crow most +effectively in his own farmyard, and therefore all crowing intended +to be effective was done by her within the shrine of her own peculiar +room.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, what is it?" she said to Grace. "Sit in the +arm-chair, my dear, and we can then talk comfortably." The teachers, +when they were closeted with Miss Prettyman, were always asked to sit +in the arm-chair, whereas a small, straight-backed, uneasy chair was +kept for the young ladies. And there was, too, a stool of repentance, +out against the wall, very uncomfortable indeed for young ladies who +had not behaved themselves so prettily as young ladies generally do.</p> + +<p>Grace seated herself, and then began her speech very quickly. "Miss +Prettyman," she said, "I have made up my mind that I will go home, if +you please."</p> + +<p>"And why should you go home, Grace? Did I not tell you that you +should have a home here?" Miss Prettyman had weak eyes, and was very +small, and had never possessed any claim to be called good-looking. +And she assumed nothing of the majestical awe from any adornment or +studied amplification of the outward woman by means of impressive +trappings. The possessor of an unobservant eye might have called her +a mean-looking, little old woman. And certainly there would have been +nothing awful in her to any one who came across her otherwise than as +a lady having authority in her own school. But within her own +precincts, she did know how to surround herself with a dignity which +all felt who approached her there. Grace Crawley, as she heard the +simple question which Miss Prettyman had asked, unconsciously +acknowledged the strength of the woman's manner. She already stood +rebuked for having proposed a plan so ungracious, so unnecessary, and +so unwise.</p> + +<p>"I think I ought to be with mamma at present," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"You mother has your sister with her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Prettyman; Jane is there."</p> + +<p>"If there is no other reason, I cannot think that that can be held to +be a reason now. Of course your mother would like to have you always; +unless you should be married,—but then there are reasons why this +should not be so."</p> + +<p>"Of course there are."</p> + +<p>"I do not think,—that is, if I know all that there is to be +known,—I do not think, I say, that there can be any good ground for +your leaving us now,—just now."</p> + +<p>Then Grace sat silent for a moment, gathering her courage, and +collecting her words; and after that she spoke. "It is because of +papa, and because of this charge<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"But, Grace—"</p> + +<p>"I know what you are going to say, Miss Prettyman;—that is, I think +I know."</p> + +<p>"If you will hear me, you may be sure that you know."</p> + +<p>"But I want you to hear me for one moment first. I beg your pardon, +Miss Prettyman; I do indeed, but I want to say this before you go on. +I must go home, and I know I ought. We are all disgraced, and I won't +stop here to disgrace the school. I know papa has done nothing wrong; +but nevertheless we are disgraced. The police are to bring him in +here on Thursday, and everybody in Silverbridge will know it. It +cannot be right that I should be here teaching in the school, while +it is all going on;—and I won't. And, Miss Prettyman, I couldn't do +it,—indeed I couldn't. I can't bring myself to think of anything I +am doing. Indeed I can't; and then, Miss Prettyman, there are other +reasons." By the time that she had proceeded thus far, Grace +Crawley's words were nearly choked by her tears.</p> + +<p>"And what are the other reasons, Grace?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Grace, struggling to speak through her tears.</p> + +<p>"But I know," said Miss Prettyman. "I know them all. I know all your +reasons, and I tell you that in my opinion you ought to remain where +you are, and not go away. The very reasons which to you are reasons +for your going, to me are reasons for your remaining here."</p> + +<p>"I can't remain. I am determined to go. I don't mind you and Miss +Anne, but I can't bear to have the girls looking at me,—and the +servants."</p> + +<p>Then Miss Prettyman paused awhile, thinking what words of wisdom +would be most appropriate in the present conjuncture. But words of +wisdom did not seem to come easily to her, having for the moment been +banished by tenderness of heart. "Come here, my love," she said at +last. "Come here, Grace." Slowly Grace got up from her seat and came +round, and stood by Miss Prettyman's elbow. Miss Prettyman pushed her +chair a little back, and pushed herself a little forward, and +stretching out one hand, placed her arm round Grace's waist, and with +the other took hold of Grace's hand, and thus drew her down and +kissed the girl's forehead and lips. And then Grace found herself +kneeling at her friend's feet. "Grace," she said, "do you not know +that I love you? Do you not know that I love you dearly?" In answer +to this Grace kissed the withered hand she held in hers, while the +warm tears trickled upon Miss Prettyman's knuckles. "I love you as +though you were my own," exclaimed the schoolmistress; "and will you +not trust me, that I know what is best for you?"</p> + +<p>"I must go home," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"Of course you shall, if you think it right at last; but let us talk +of it. No one in the house, you know, has the slightest suspicion +that your father has done anything that is in the least +dishonourable."</p> + +<p>"I know that you have not."</p> + +<p>"No, nor has Anne." Miss Prettyman said this as though no one in that +house beyond herself and her sister had a right to have any opinion +on any subject.</p> + +<p>"I know that," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear. If we think so—"</p> + +<p>"But the servants, Miss Prettyman?"</p> + +<p>"If any servant in this house says a word to offend you, +I'll—I'll<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"They don't say anything, Miss Prettyman, but they look. Indeed, I'd +better go home. Indeed I had!"</p> + +<p>"Do not you think your mother has cares enough upon her, and burden +enough, without another mouth to feed, and another head to shelter? +You haven't thought of that, Grace!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have."</p> + +<p>"And as for the work, whilst you are not quite well you shall not be +troubled with teaching. I have some old papers that want copying and +settling, and you shall sit here and do that just for an employment. +Anne knows that I've long wanted to have it done, and I'll tell her +that you've kindly promised to do it for me."</p> + +<p>"No; no; no," said Grace; "I must go home." She was still kneeling at +Miss Prettyman's knee, and still holding Miss Prettyman's hand. And +then, at that moment, there came a tap on the door, gentle but yet +not humble, a tap which acknowledged, on the part of the tapper, the +supremacy in that room of the lady who was sitting there, but which +still claimed admittance almost as a right. The tap was well known by +both of them to be the tap of Miss Anne. Grace immediately jumped up, +and Miss Prettyman settled herself in her chair with a motion which +almost seemed to indicate some feeling of shame as to her late +position.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I may come in?" said Miss Anne, opening the door and +inserting her head.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you may come in,—if you have anything to say," said Miss +Prettyman, with an air which seemed to be intended to assert her +supremacy. But, in truth, she was simply collecting the wisdom and +dignity which had been somewhat dissipated by her tenderness.</p> + +<p>"I did not know that Grace Crawley was here," said Miss Anne.</p> + +<p>"Grace Crawley is here," said Miss Prettyman.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Grace?" said Miss Anne, seeing the tears.</p> + +<p>"Never mind now," said Miss Prettyman.</p> + +<p>"Poor dear, I'm sure I'm sorry as though she were my own sister," +said Anne. "But, Annabella, I want to speak to you especially."</p> + +<p>"To me, in private?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to you; in private, if Grace won't mind?"</p> + +<p>Then Grace prepared to go. But as she was going, Miss Anne, upon +whose brow a heavy burden of thought was lying, stopped her suddenly. +"Grace, my dear," she said, "go upstairs into your room, will +you?—not across the hall to the school."</p> + +<p>"And why shouldn't she go to the school?" said Miss Prettyman.</p> + +<p>Miss Anne paused for a moment, and then answered,—unwillingly, as +though driven to make a reply which she knew to be indiscreet. +"Because there is somebody in the hall."</p> + +<p>"Go to your room, dear," said Miss Prettyman. And Grace went to her +room, never turning an eye down towards the hall. "Who is it?" said +Miss Prettyman.</p> + +<p>"Major Grantly is here, asking to see you," said Miss Anne.</p> + + +<p><a name="c7" id="c7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> +<h3>Miss Prettyman's Private Room<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Major Grantly, when threatened by his father with pecuniary +punishment, should he demean himself by such a marriage as that he +had proposed to himself, had declared that he would offer his hand to +Miss Crawley on the next morning. This, however, he had not done. He +had not done it, partly because he did not quite believe his father's +threat, and partly because he felt that that threat was almost +justified,—for the present moment,—by the circumstances in which +Grace Crawley's father had placed himself. Henry Grantly +acknowledged, as he drove himself home on the morning after his +dinner at the rectory, that in this matter of his marriage he did owe +much to his family. Should he marry at all, he owed it to them to +marry a lady. And Grace Crawley,—so he told himself,—was a lady. +And he owed it to them to bring among them as his wife a woman who +should not disgrace him or them by her education, manners, or even by +her personal appearance. In all these respects Grace Crawley was, in +his judgment, quite as good as they had a right to expect her to be, +and in some respects a great deal superior to that type of womanhood +with which they had been most generally conversant. "If everybody had +her due, my sister isn't fit to hold a candle to her," he said to +himself. It must be acknowledged, therefore, that he was really in +love with Grace Crawley; and he declared to himself, over and over +again, that his family had no right to demand that he should marry a +woman with money. The archdeacon's son by no means despised money. +How could he, having come forth as a bird fledged from such a nest as +the rectory at Plumstead Episcopi? Before he had been brought by his +better nature and true judgment to see that Grace Crawley was the +greater woman of the two, he had nearly submitted himself to the +twenty thousand pounds of Miss Emily Dunstable,—to that, and her +good-humour and rosy freshness combined. But he regarded himself as +the well-to-do son of a very rich father. His only child was amply +provided for; and he felt that, as regarded money, he had a right to +do as he pleased. He felt this with double strength after his +father's threat.</p> + +<p>But he had no right to make a marriage by which his family would be +disgraced. Whether he was right or wrong in supposing that he would +disgrace his family were he to marry the daughter of a convicted +thief, it is hardly necessary to discuss here. He told himself that +it would be so,—telling himself also that, by the stern laws of the +world, the son and the daughter must pay for the offence of the +father and the mother. Even among the poor, who would willingly marry +the child of a man who had been hanged? But he carried the argument +beyond this, thinking much of the matter, and endeavouring to think +of it not only justly, but generously. If the accusation against +Crawley were false,—if the man were being injured by an unjust +charge,—even if he, Grantly, could make himself think that the +girl's father had not stolen the money, then he would dare everything +and go on. I do not know that his argument was good, or that his mind +was logical in the matter. He ought to have felt that his own +judgment as to the man's guilt was less likely to be correct than +that of those whose duty it was and would be to form and to express a +judgment on the matter; and as to Grace herself, she was equally +innocent whether her father were guilty or not guilty. If he were to +be debarred from asking her for her hand by his feelings for her +father and mother, he should hardly have trusted to his own skill in +ascertaining the real truth as to the alleged theft. But he was not +logical, and thus, meaning to be generous, he became unjust.</p> + +<p>He found that among those in Silverbridge whom he presumed to be best +informed on such matters, there was a growing opinion that Mr Crawley +had stolen the money. He was intimate with all the Walkers, and was +able to find out that Mrs Walker knew that her husband believed in +the clergyman's guilt. He was by no means alone in his willingness to +accept Mr Walker's opinion as the true opinion. Silverbridge, +generally, was endeavouring to dress itself in Mr Walker's glass, and +to believe as Mr Walker believed. The ladies of Silverbridge, +including the Miss Prettymans, were aware that Mr Walker had been +very kind both to Mr and Mrs Crawley, and argued from this that Mr +Walker must think the man to be innocent. But Henry Grantly, who did +not dare to ask a direct question of the solicitor, went cunningly to +work, and closeted himself with Mrs Walker,—with Mrs Walker, who +knew well of the good fortune which was hovering over Grace's head +and was so nearly settling itself upon her shoulders. She would have +given a finger to be able to whitewash Mr Crawley in the major's +estimation. Nor must it be supposed that she told the major in plain +words that her husband had convinced himself of the man's guilt. In +plain words no question was asked between them, and in plain words no +opinion was expressed. But there was the look of sorrow in the +woman's eye, there was the absence of reference to her husband's +assurance that the man was innocent, there was the air of settled +grief which told of her own conviction; and the major left her, +convinced that Mrs Walker believed Mr Crawley to be guilty.</p> + +<p>Then he went to Barchester; not open-mouthed with inquiry, but rather +with open ears, and it seemed to him that all men in Barchester were +of one mind. There was a county-club in Barchester, and at this +county-club nine men out of ten were talking about Mr Crawley. It was +by no means necessary that a man should ask questions on the subject. +Opinion was expressed so freely that no such asking was required; and +opinion in Barchester,—at any rate in the county-club,—seemed now +to be all of one mind. There had been every disposition at first to +believe Mr Crawley to be innocent. He had been believed to be +innocent, even after he had said wrongly that the cheque had been +paid to him by Mr Soames; but he had since stated that he had +received it from Dean Arabin, and that statement was also shown to be +false. A man who has a cheque changed on his own behalf is bound at +least to show where he got the cheque. Mr Crawley had not only failed +to do this, but had given two false excuses. Henry Grantly, as he +drove home to Silverbridge on the Sunday afternoon, summed up all the +evidence in his own mind, and brought in a verdict of Guilty against +the father of the girl whom he loved.</p> + +<p>On the following morning he walked into Silverbridge and called at +Miss Prettyman's house. As he went along his heart was warmer towards +Grace than it had ever been before. He had told himself that he was +now bound to abstain, for his father's sake, from doing that which he +had told his father that he would certainly do. But he knew also, +that he had said that which, though it did not bind him to Miss +Crawley, gave her a right to expect that he would so bind himself. +And Miss Prettyman could not but be aware of what his intention had +been, and could not but expect that he should now be explicit. Had he +been a wise man altogether, he would probably have abstained from +saying anything at the present moment,—a wise man, that is, in the +ways and feelings of the world in such matters. But, as there are men +who will allow themselves all imaginable latitude in their treatment +of women, believing that the world will condone any amount of fault +of that nature, so are there other men, and a class of men which on +the whole is the more numerous of the two, who are tremblingly alive +to the danger of censure on this head,—and to the danger of censure +not only from others, but from themselves also. Major Grantly had +done that which made him think it imperative upon him to do something +further, and to do that something at once.</p> + +<p>Therefore he started off on the Monday morning after breakfast and +walked to Silverbridge, and as he walked he built various castles in +the air. Why should he not marry Grace,—if she would have him,—and +take her away beyond the reach of her father's calamity? Why should +he not throw over his own people altogether, money, position, +society, and all, and give himself up to love? Were he to do so, men +might say that he was foolish, but no one could hint that he was +dishonourable. His spirit was high enough to teach him to think that +such conduct on his part would have in it something of magnificence; +but, yet, such was not his purpose. In going to Miss Prettyman it was +his intention to apologise for not doing this magnificent thing. His +mind was quite made up. Nevertheless he built castles in the air.</p> + +<p>It so happened that he encountered the younger Miss Prettyman in the +hall. It would not at all have suited him to reveal to her the +purport of his visit, or ask her either to assist his suit or to +receive his apologies. Miss Anne Prettyman was too common a personage +in the Silverbridge world to be fit for such employment. Miss Anne +Prettyman was, indeed, herself submissive to him, and treated him +with the courtesy which is due to a superior being. He therefore +simply asked her whether he could be allowed to see her sister.</p> + +<p>"Surely, Major Grantly;—that is, I think so. It is a little early, +but I think she can receive you."</p> + +<p>"It is early, I know; but as I want to say a word or two on +business<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, on business. I am sure she will see you on business; she will +only be too proud. If you will be kind enough to step in here for two +minutes." Then Miss Anne, having deposited the major in the little +parlour, ran upstairs with her message to her sister. "Of course it's +about Grace Crawley" she said to herself as she went. "It can't be +about anything else. I wonder what it is he's going to say. If he's +going to pop, and the father in all this trouble, he's the finest +fellow that ever trod." Such were her thoughts as she tapped at the +door and announced in the presence of Grace that there was somebody +in the hall.</p> + +<p>"It's Major Grantly," whispered Anne, as soon as Grace had shut the +door behind her.</p> + +<p>"So I supposed by your telling her not to go into the hall. What has +he come to say?"</p> + +<p>"How on earth can I tell you that, Annabella? But I suppose he can +have only one thing to say after all that has come and gone. He can +only have come with one object."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't have come to me for that. He would have asked to see +herself."</p> + +<p>"But she never goes out now, and he can't see her."</p> + +<p>"Or he would have gone to them over at Hogglestock," said Miss +Prettyman. "But of course he must come up now he is here. Would you +mind telling him? or shall I ring the bell?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell him. We need not make more fuss than necessary, with the +servants, you know. I suppose I'd better not come back with him?"</p> + +<p>There was a tone of supplication in the younger sister's voice as she +made the last suggestion, which ought to have melted the heart of the +elder; but it was unavailing. "As he has asked to see me, I think you +had better not," said Annabella. Miss Anne Prettyman bore her cross +meekly, offered no argument on the subject, and returning to the +little parlour where she had left the major, brought him upstairs and +ushered him into her sister's room without even entering it again, +herself.</p> + +<p>Major Grantly was as intimately acquainted with Miss Anne Prettyman +as a man under thirty may well be with a lady nearer fifty than +forty, who is not specially connected with him by any family tie; but +of Miss Prettyman he knew personally very much less. Miss Prettyman, +as has before been said, did not go out, and was therefore not common +to the eyes of the Silverbridgians. She did occasionally see her +friends in her own house, and Grace Crawley's lover, as the major had +come to be called, had been there on more than one occasion; but of +real personal intimacy between them there had hitherto existed none. +He might have spoken, perhaps, a dozen words to her in his life. He +had now more than a dozen to speak to her, but he hardly knew how to +commence them.</p> + +<p>She had got up and curtseyed, and had then taken his hand and asked +him to sit down. "My sister tells me that you want to see me," she +said in her softest, mildest voice.</p> + +<p>"I do, Miss Prettyman. I want to speak to you about a matter that +troubles me very much,—very much indeed."</p> + +<p>"Anything that I can do, Major Grantly<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Thank you, yes. I know that you are very good, or I should not have +ventured to come to you. Indeed I shouldn't trouble you now, of +course, if it was only about myself. I know very well what a great +friend you are to Miss Crawley."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am. We love Grace dearly here."</p> + +<p>"So do I," said the major bluntly; "I love her dearly, too." Then he +paused, as though he thought that Miss Prettyman ought to take up the +speech. But Miss Prettyman seemed to think quite differently, and he +was obliged to go on. "I don't know whether you have ever heard about +it, or noticed it, or—or—or<span class="nowrap">—"</span> +He felt that he was very awkward, +and he blushed. Major as he was, he blushed as he sat before the old +woman, trying to tell his story, but not knowing how to tell it. "The +truth is, Miss Prettyman, I have done all but ask her to be my wife, +and now has come this terrible affair about her father."</p> + +<p>"It is a terrible affair, Major Grantly; very terrible."</p> + +<p>"By Jove, you may say that!"</p> + +<p>"Of course Mr Crawley is as innocent in the matter as you or I are."</p> + +<p>"You think so, Miss Prettyman?"</p> + +<p>"Think so! I feel sure of it. What; a clergyman of the Church of +England, a pious, hard-working country clergyman, whom we have known +among us by his good works for years, suddenly turn thief, and pilfer +a few pounds! It is not possible, Major Grantly. And the father of +such a daughter, too! It is not possible. It may do for men of +business to think so, lawyers and such like, who are obliged to think +in accordance with the evidence, as they call it; but to my mind the +idea is monstrous. I don't know how he got it, and I don't care; but +I'm quite sure he did not steal it. Whoever heard of anybody becoming +so base as that all at once?"</p> + +<p>The major was startled by her eloquence, and by the indignant tone of +voice in which it was expressed. It seemed to tell him that she would +give him no sympathy in that which he had come to say to her, and to +upbraid him already in that he was not prepared to do the magnificent +thing of which he had thought when he had been building his castles +in the air. Why should he not do the magnificent thing? Miss +Prettyman's eloquence was so strong that it half convinced him that +the Barchester Club and Mr Walker had come to a wrong conclusion +after all.</p> + +<p>"And how does Miss Crawley bear it?" he asked, desirous of postponing +for a while any declaration of his own purpose.</p> + +<p>"She is very unhappy, of course. Not that she thinks evil of her +father."</p> + +<p>"Of course she does not think him guilty."</p> + +<p>"Nobody thinks him so in this house, Major Grantly," said the little +woman, very imperiously. "But Grace is, naturally enough, very +sad;—very sad indeed. I do not think I can ask you to see her +to-day."</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of it," said the major.</p> + +<p>"Poor, dear child! it is a great trial for her. Do you wish me to +give her any message, Major Grantly?"</p> + +<p>The moment had now come in which he must say that which he had come +to say. The little woman waited for an answer, and as he was there, +within her power as it were, he must speak. I fear that what he said +will not be approved by any strong-minded reader. I fear that our +lover will henceforth be considered by such a one as being a weak, +wishy-washy man, who had hardly any mind of his own to speak +of;—that he was a man of no account, as the poor people say. "Miss +Prettyman, what message ought I to send to her?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Major Grantly, how can I tell you that? How can I put words +into your mouth?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't the words," he said; "but the feelings."</p> + +<p>"And how can I tell the feelings of your heart?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as for that, I know what my feelings are. I do love her with all +my heart;—I do, indeed. A fortnight ago I was only thinking whether +she would accept me when I asked her,—wondering whether I was too +old for her, and whether she would mind having Edith to take care +of."</p> + +<p>"She is very fond of Edith,—very fond indeed."</p> + +<p>"Is she?" said the major, more distracted than ever. Why should he +not do the magnificent thing after all? "But it is a great charge for +a young girl when she marries."</p> + +<p>"It is a great charge;—a very great charge. It is for you to think +whether you should entrust so great a charge to one so young."</p> + +<p>"I have no fear about that at all."</p> + +<p>"Nor should I have any,—as you ask me. We have known Grace well, +thoroughly, and are quite sure that she will do her duty in that +state of life to which it may please God to call her."</p> + +<p>The major was aware when this was said to him that he had not come to +Miss Prettyman for a character of the girl he loved; and yet he was +not angry at receiving it. He was neither angry, nor even +indifferent. He accepted the character almost gratefully, though he +felt that he was being led away from his purpose. He consoled himself +for this, however, by remembering that the path by which Miss +Prettyman was now leading him, led to the magnificent, and to those +pleasant castles in the air which he had been building as he walked +into Silverbridge. "I am quite sure that she is all that you say," he +replied. "Indeed I had made up my mind about that long ago."</p> + +<p>"And what can I do for you, Major Grantly?"</p> + +<p>"You think I ought not to see her?"</p> + +<p>"I will ask herself, if you please. I have such trust in her judgment +that I should leave her altogether to her own discretion."</p> + +<p>The magnificent thing must be done, and the major made up his mind +accordingly. Something of regret came over his spirit as he thought +of a father-in-law disgraced and degraded, and of his own father +broken-hearted. But now there was hardly an alternative left to him. +And was it not the manly thing for him to do? He had loved the girl +before this trouble had come upon her, and was he not bound to accept +the burden which his love had brought with it? "I will see her," he +said, "at once, if you will let me, and ask her to be my wife. But I +must see her alone."</p> + +<p>Then Miss Prettyman paused. Hitherto she had undoubtedly been playing +her fish cautiously, or rather her young friend's fish,—perhaps I +may say cunningly. She had descended to artifice on behalf of the +girl whom she loved, admired, and pitied. She had seen some way into +the man's mind, and had been partly aware of his purpose,—of his +infirmity of purpose, of his double purpose. She had perceived that a +word from her might help Grace's chance, and had led the man on till +he had committed himself, at any rate to her. In doing this she had +been actuated by friendship rather than by abstract principle. But +now, when the moment had come in which she must decide upon some +action, she paused. Was it right, for the sake of either of them, +that an offer of marriage should be made at such a moment as this? It +might be very well, in regard to some future time, that the major +should have so committed himself. She saw something of the man's +spirit, and believed that, having gone so far,—having so far told +his love, he would return to his love hereafter, let the result of +the Crawley trial be what it might. But,—but, this could be no +proper time for love-making. Though Grace loved the man, as Miss +Prettyman knew well,—though Grace loved the child, having allowed +herself to long to call it her own, though such a marriage would be +the making of Grace's fortune as those who loved her could hardly +have hoped that it should ever have been made, she would certainly +refuse the man, if he were to propose to her now. She would refuse +him, and then the man would be free;—free to change his mind if he +thought fit. Considering all these things, craftily in the exercise +of her friendship, too cunningly, I fear, to satisfy the claims of a +high morality, she resolved that the major had better not see Miss +Crawley at the present moment. Miss Prettyman paused before she +replied, and, when she did speak, Major Grantly had risen from his +chair and was standing with his back to the fire. "Major Grantly," +she said, "you shall see her if you please, and if she pleases; but I +doubt whether her answer at such a moment as this would be that which +you would wish to receive."</p> + +<p>"You think she would refuse me?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think that she would accept you now. She would feel,—I am +sure she would feel, that these hours of her father's sorrow are not +hours in which love should be either offered or accepted. You shall, +however, see her if you please."</p> + +<p>The major allowed himself a moment for thought; and as he thought he +sighed. Grace Crawley became more beautiful in his eyes than ever, +was endowed by these words from Miss Prettyman with new charms and +brighter virtues than he had seen before. Let come what might he +would ask her to be his wife on some future day, if he did not so ask +her now. For the present, perhaps, he had better be guided by Miss +Prettyman. "Then I will not see her," he said.</p> + +<p>"I think that would be the wiser course."</p> + +<p>"Of course you knew before this that I—loved her?"</p> + +<p>"I thought so, Major Grantly."</p> + +<p>"And that I intended to ask her to be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Well; since you put the question to me so plainly, I must confess +that as Grace's friend I should not quite have let things go on as +they have gone,—though I am not at all disposed to interfere with +any girl whom I believe to be pure and good as I know her to be,—but +still I should hardly have been justified in letting things go on as +they have gone, if I had not believed that such was your purpose."</p> + +<p>"I wanted to set myself right with you, Miss Prettyman."</p> + +<p>"You are right with me,—quite right;" and she got up and gave him +her hand. "You are a fine, noble-hearted gentleman, and I hope that +our Grace may live to be your happy wife, and the mother of your +darling child, and the mother of other children. I do not see how a +woman could have a happier lot in life."</p> + +<p>"And will you give Grace my love?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell her at any rate that you have been here, and that you +have inquired after her with the greatest kindness. She will +understand what that means without any word of love."</p> + +<p>"Can I do anything for her,—or her father; I mean in the way +of—money? I don't mind mentioning it to you, Miss Prettyman."</p> + +<p>"I will tell her that you are ready to do it, if anything can be +done. For myself I feel no doubt that the mystery will be cleared up +at last; and then, if you will come here, we shall be so glad to see +you.—I shall, at least."</p> + +<p>Then the major went, and Miss Prettyman herself actually descended +with him into the hall, and bade him farewell most affectionately +before her sister and two of the maids who came out to open the door. +Miss Anne Prettyman, when she saw the great friendship with which the +major was dismissed, could not contain herself, but asked most +impudent questions, in a whisper indeed, but in such a whisper that +any sharp-eared maid-servant could hear and understand them. "Is it +settled," she asked when her sister had ascended only the first +flight of stairs;—"has he popped?" The look with which the elder +sister punished and dismayed the younger, I would not have borne for +twenty pounds. She simply looked, and said nothing, but passed on. +When she had regained her room she rang the bell, and desired the +servant to ask Miss Crawley to be good enough to step to her. Poor +Miss Anne retired discomforted into the solitude of one of the lower +rooms, and sat for some minutes all alone, recovering from the shock +of her sister's anger. "At any rate, he hasn't popped," she said to +herself, as she made her way back to the school.</p> + +<p>After that Miss Prettyman and Miss Crawley were closeted together for +about an hour. What passed between them need not be repeated here +word for word; but it may be understood that Miss Prettyman said no +more than she ought to have said, and that Grace understood all that +she ought to have understood.</p> + +<p>"No man ever behaved with more considerate friendship, or more like a +gentleman," said Miss Prettyman.</p> + +<p>"I am sure he is very good, and I am so glad he did not ask to see +me," said Grace. Then Grace went away, and Miss Prettyman sat awhile +in thought, considering what she had done, not without some stings of +conscience.</p> + +<p>Major Grantly as he walked home was not altogether satisfied with +himself, though he gave himself credit for some diplomacy which I do +not think he deserved. He felt that Miss Prettyman and the world in +general, should the world in general ever hear anything about it, +would give him credit for having behaved well; and that he had +obtained this credit without committing himself to the necessity of +marrying the daughter of a thief, should things turn out badly in +regard to her father. But,—and this but robbed him of all the +pleasure which comes from real success,—but he had not treated Grace +Crawley with the perfect generosity which love owes, and he was in +some degree ashamed of himself. He felt, however, that he might +probably have Grace, should he choose to ask for her when this +trouble should have passed by. "And I will," he said to himself, as +he entered the gate of his own paddock, and saw his child in her +perambulator before the house. "And I will ask her, sooner or later, +let things go as they may." Then he took the perambulator under his +own charge for half-an-hour, to the satisfaction of the nurse, of the +child, and of himself.</p> + + +<p><a name="c8" id="c8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> +<h3>Mr Crawley Is Taken to Silverbridge<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It had become necessary on the Monday morning that Mrs Crawley should +obtain from her husband an undertaking that he would present himself +before the magistrates at Silverbridge on the Thursday. She had been +made to understand that the magistrates were sinning against the +strict rule of the law in not issuing a warrant at once for Mr +Crawley's apprehension; and that they were so sinning at the instance +of Mr Walker,—at whose instance they would have committed almost any +sin practicable by a board of English magistrates, so great was their +faith in him; and she knew that she was bound to answer her +engagement. She had also another task to perform—that, namely, of +persuading him to employ an attorney for his defence; and she was +prepared with the name of an attorney, one Mr Mason, also of +Silverbridge, who had been recommended to her by Mr Walker. But when +she came to the performance of these two tasks on the Monday morning, +she found that she was unable to accomplish either of them. Mr +Crawley first declared that he would have nothing to do with any +attorney. As to that he seemed to have made up his mind beforehand, +and she saw at once that she had no hope of shaking him. But when she +found that he was equally obstinate in the other matter and that he +declared that he would not go before the magistrates unless he were +made to do so,—unless the policeman came and fetched him, then she +almost sank beneath the burden of her troubles, and for a while was +disposed to let things go as they would. How could she strive to bear +a load that was so manifestly too heavy for her shoulders?</p> + +<p>On the Sunday the poor man had exerted himself to get through his +Sunday duties, and he had succeeded. He had succeeded so well that +his wife had thought that things might yet come right with him, that +he would remember, before it was too late, the true history of that +unhappy piece of paper, and that he was rising above that half +madness which for months past had afflicted him. On the Sunday +evening, when he was tired with his work, she thought it best to say +nothing to him about the magistrates and the business of Thursday. +But on Monday morning she commenced her task, feeling that she owed +it to Mr Walker to lose no more time. He was very decided in his +manners and made her to understand that he would employ no lawyer on +his own behalf. "Why should I want a lawyer? I have done nothing +wrong," he said. Then she tried to make him understand that many who +may have done nothing wrong require a lawyer's aid. "And who is to +pay him?" he asked. To this she replied, unfortunately, that there +would be no need of thinking of that at once. "And I am to get +further into debt!" he said. "I am to put myself right before the +world by incurring debts which I know I can never pay? When it has +been a question of food for the children I have been weak, but I will +not be weak in such a matter as this. I will have no lawyer." She did +not regard this denial on his part as very material, though she would +fain have followed Mr Walker's advice had she been able; but when, +later in the day, he declared that the police should fetch him, then +her spirits gave way. Early in the morning he had seemed to assent to +the expedient of going into Silverbridge on the Thursday, and it was +not till after he had worked himself into a rage about the proposed +attorney, that he utterly refused to make the journey. During the +whole day, however, his state was such as almost to break his wife's +heart. He would do nothing. He would not go to the school, nor even +stir beyond the house-door. He would not open a book. He would not +eat, nor would he even sit at table or say the accustomed grace when +the scanty mid-day meal was placed upon the table. "Nothing is +blessed to me," he said, when his wife pressed him to say the word +for their child's sake. "Shall I say that I thank God when my heart +is thankless? Shall I serve my child by a lie?" Then for hours he sat +in the same position, in the old arm-chair, hanging over the fire +speechless, sleepless, thinking ever, as she well knew, of the +injustice of the world. She hardly dared to speak to him, so great +was the bitterness of his words when he was goaded to reply. At last, +late in the evening, feeling that it would be her duty to send to Mr +Walker early on the following morning, she laid her hand gently on +his shoulder and asked him for his promise. "I may tell Mr Walker +that you will be there on Thursday?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, shouting at her. "No. I will have no such message +sent." She started back, trembling. Not that she was accustomed to +tremble at his ways, or to show that she feared him in his paroxysms, +but that his voice had been louder than she had before known it. "I +will hold no intercourse with them at Silverbridge in this matter. Do +you hear me, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"I hear you, Josiah; but I must keep my word to Mr Walker. I promised +that I would send to him."</p> + +<p>"Tell him, then, that I will not stir a foot out of this house on +Thursday of my own accord. On Thursday I shall be here; and here I +will remain all day,—unless they take me hence by force."</p> + +<p>"But Josiah—"</p> + +<p>"Will you obey me, or shall I walk into Silverbridge myself and tell +the man that I will not come to him." Then he arose from his chair +and stretched forth his hand to his hat as though he were going forth +immediately, on his way to Silverbridge. The night was now pitch +dark, and the rain was falling, and abroad he would encounter all the +severity of the pitiless winter. Still it might have been better that +he should have gone. The exercise and the fresh air, even the wet and +the mud, would have served to bring back his mind to reason. But his +wife thought of the misery of the journey, of his scanty clothing, of +his worn boots, of the need there was to preserve the raiment which +he wore; and she remembered that he was fasting,—that he had eaten +nothing since the morning, and that he was not fit to be alone. She +stopped him, therefore, before he could reach the door.</p> + +<p>"Your bidding shall be done," she said,—"of course."</p> + +<p>"Tell them, then, that they must seek me here if they want me."</p> + +<p>"But, Josiah, think of the parish,—of the people who respect +you,—for their sakes let it not be said that you were taken away by +policemen."</p> + +<p>"Was St Paul not bound in prison? Did he think of what the people +might see?"</p> + +<p>"If it were necessary, I would encourage you to bear it without a +murmur."</p> + +<p>"It is necessary, whether you murmur, or do not murmur. Murmur +indeed! Why does not your voice ascend to heaven with one loud wail +against the cruelty of man?" Then he went forth from the room into an +empty chamber on the other side of the passage; and his wife, when +she followed him there after a few minutes, found him on his knees, +with his forehead against the floor, and with his hands clutching at +the scanty hairs of his head. Often before had she seen him so, on +the same spot, half grovelling, half prostrate in prayer, reviling in +his agony all things around him,—nay, nearly all things above +him,—and yet striving to reconcile himself to his Creator by the +humiliation of confession.</p> + +<p>It might be better for him now, if only he could bring himself to +some softness of heart. Softly she closed the door, and placing the +candle on the mantle-shelf, softly she knelt beside him, and softly +touched his hand with hers. He did not stir nor utter a single word, +but seemed to clutch at his thin locks more violently than before. +Then she kneeling there, aloud, but with a low voice, with her thin +hands clasped, uttered a prayer in which she asked her God to remove +from her husband the bitterness of that hour. He listened till she +had finished, and then he rose slowly to his feet. "It is all in +vain," said he. "It is all in vain. It is all in vain." Then he +returned back to the parlour, and seating himself again in the +arm-chair, remained there without speaking till past midnight. At +last, when she told him that she herself was very cold, and reminded +him that for the last hour there had been no fire, still speechless, +he went up with her to their bed.</p> + +<p>Early on the following morning she contrived to let him know that she +was about to send a neighbour's son over with a note to Mr Walker, +fearing to urge him further to change his mind; but hoping that he +might express his purpose of doing so when he heard that the letter +was to be sent; but he took no notice whatever of her words. At this +moment he was reading Greek with his daughter, or rather rebuking her +because she could not be induced to read Greek.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa," the poor girl said, "don't scold me now. I am so unhappy +because of all of this."</p> + +<p>"And am not I unhappy?" he said, as he closed the book. "My God, what +have I done against thee, that my lines should be cast in such +terrible places?"</p> + +<p>The letter was sent to Mr Walker. "He knows himself to be innocent," +said the poor wife, writing what best excuse she knew how to make, +"and thinks that he should take no step himself in such a matter. He +will not employ a lawyer, and he says that he should prefer that he +should be sent for, if the law requires his presence at Silverbridge +on Thursday." All this she wrote, as though she felt that she ought +to employ a high tone in defending her husband's purpose; but she +broke down altogether in the few words of the postscript. "Indeed, +indeed I have done what I could!" Mr Walker understood it all, both +the high tone and the subsequent fall.</p> + +<p>On the Thursday morning, at about ten o'clock, a fly stopped at the +gate at Hogglestock Parsonage, and out of it there came two men. One +was dressed in ordinary black clothes, and seemed from his bearing to +be a respectable man of the middle class of life. He was, however, +the superintendent of police for the Silverbridge district. The other +man was a policeman, pure and simple, with the helmet-looking hat +which has lately become common, and all the ordinary half-military +and wholly disagreeable outward adjuncts of the profession. +"Wilkins," said the superintendent, "likely enough I shall want you, +for they tell me the gent is uncommon strange. But if I don't call +you when I come out, just open the door like a servant, and mount up +on the box when we're in. And don't speak nor say nothing." Then the +senior policeman entered the house.</p> + +<p>He found Mrs Crawley sitting in the parlour with her bonnet and shawl +on, and Mr Crawley in the arm-chair, leaning over the fire. "I +suppose we had better go with you," said Mrs Crawley directly the +door was opened; for of course she had seen the arrival of the fly +from the window.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman had better come with us if he'll be so kind," said +Thompson. "I've brought a close carriage for him."</p> + +<p>"But I may go with him?" said the wife, with frightened voice. "I may +accompany my husband. He is not well, sir, and wants assistance."</p> + +<p>Thompson thought about it for a moment before he spoke. There was +room in the fly for only two, or if for three, still he knew his +place better than to thrust himself inside together with his prisoner +and his prisoner's wife. He had been specially asked by Mr Walker to +be very civil. Only one could sit on the box with the driver, and if +the request was conceded the poor policeman must walk back. The walk, +however, would not kill the policeman. "All right, ma'am," said +Thompson;—"that is, if the gentleman will just pass his word not to +get out till I ask him."</p> + +<p>"He will not! He will not!" said Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"I will pass my word for nothing," said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>Upon hearing this, Thompson assumed a very long face, and shook his +head as he turned his eyes first towards the husband and then towards +the wife, and shrugged his shoulders, and compressing his lips, blew +out his breath, as though in this way he might blow off some of the +mingled sorrow and indignation with which the gentleman's words +afflicted him.</p> + +<p>Mrs Crawley rose and came close to him. "You may take my word for it, +he will not stir. You may indeed. He thinks it incumbent on him not +to give any undertaking himself, because he feels himself to be so +harshly used."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about harshness," said Thompson, brindling up. "A close +carriage brought and<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I will walk. If I am made to go, I will walk," shouted Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"I did not allude to you,—or to Mr Walker," said the poor wife. "I +know you have been most kind. I meant the harshness of the +circumstances. Of course he is innocent, and you must feel for him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I feel for him, and for you too, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"That is all I meant. He knows his own innocence, and therefore he is +unwilling to give way in anything."</p> + +<p>"Of course he knows hisself, that's certain. But he'd better come in +the carriage, if only because of the dirt and slush."</p> + +<p>"He will go in the carriage; and I will go with him. There will be +room for you there, sir."</p> + +<p>Thompson looked up at the rain, and told himself that it was very +cold. Then he remembered Mr Walker's injunction, and bethought +himself that Mrs Crawley, in spite of her poverty, was a lady. He +conceived even unconsciously the idea that something was due to her +because of her poverty. "I'll go with the driver," said he, "but +he'll only give hisself a deal of trouble if he attempts to get out."</p> + +<p>"He won't; he won't," said Mrs Crawley. "And I thank you with all my +heart."</p> + +<p>"Come along, then," said Thompson.</p> + +<p>She went up to her husband, hat in hand, and looking round to see +that she was not watched, put the hat on his head, and then lifted +him as it were from the chair. He did not refuse to be led, and +allowed her to throw round his shoulders the old cloak which was +hanging in the passage, and then he passed out, and was the first to +seat himself in the Silverbridge fly. His wife followed him, and did +not hear the blandishments with which Thompson instructed his +myrmidon to follow through the mud on foot. Slowly they made their +way through the lanes, and it was nearly twelve when the fly was +driven into the yard of the "George and Vulture" at Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>Silverbridge, though it was blessed with a mayor and corporation, and +was blessed also with a Member of Parliament all to itself, was not +blessed with any courthouse. The magistrates were therefore compelled +to sit in the big room at the "George and Vulture", in which the +county balls were celebrated, and the meeting of the West Barsetshire +freemasons was held. That part of the country was, no doubt, very +much ashamed of its backwardness in this respect, but as yet nothing +had been done to remedy the evil. Thompson and his fly were therefore +driven into the yard of the inn, and Mr and Mrs Crawley were ushered +by him up into a little bed-chamber close adjoining to the big room +in which the magistrates were already assembled. "There's a bit of +fire here," said Thompson, "and you can make yourselves a little +warm." He himself was shivering with the cold. "When the gents is +ready in there, I'll just come and fetch you."</p> + +<p>"I may go in with him?" said Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"I'll have a chair for you at the end of the table, just nigh to +him," said Thompson. "You can slip into it and say nothing to +nobody." Then he left them and went away to the magistrates.</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley had not spoken a word since he had entered the vehicle. +Nor had she said much to him, but had sat with him holding his hand +in hers. Now he spoke to her,—"Where is it that we are?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"At Silverbridge, dearest."</p> + +<p>"But what is this chamber? And why are we here?"</p> + +<p>"We are to wait here till the magistrates are ready. They are in the +next room."</p> + +<p>"But this is the Inn?"</p> + +<p>"Yes dear, it is the Inn."</p> + +<p>"And I see crowds of people about." There were crowds of people +about. There had been men in the yard, and others standing about on +the stairs, and the public room was full of men who were curious to +see the clergyman who had stolen twenty pounds, and to hear what +would be the result of the case before the magistrates. He must be +committed; so, at least said everybody; but then there would be the +question of bail. Would the magistrates let him out on bail, and who +would be the bailsmen? "Why are the people here?" said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is a custom when the magistrates are sitting," said his +wife.</p> + +<p>"They have come to see the degradation of a clergyman," said +he;—"and they will not be disappointed."</p> + +<p>"Nothing can degrade but guilt," said his wife.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—misfortune can degrade, and poverty. A man is degraded when +the cares of the world press so heavily upon him that he cannot rouse +himself. They have come to look at me as though I were a hunted +beast."</p> + +<p>"It is but their custom always on such days."</p> + +<p>"They have not always a clergyman before them as a criminal." Then he +was silent for a while, while she was chafing his cold hands. "Would +that I were dead, before they had brought me to this! Would that I +were dead!"</p> + +<p>"Is it not right, dear, that we should all bear what He sends us?"</p> + +<p>"Would that I were dead!" he repeated. "The load is too heavy for me +to bear, and I would that I were dead."</p> + +<p>The time seemed to be very long before Thompson returned and asked +them to accompany him into the big room. When he did so, Mr Crawley +grasped hold of the chair as though he had resolved that he would not +go.</p> + +<p>But his wife whispered a word to him, and he obeyed her. "He will +follow me," she said to the policeman. And in that way they went from +the smaller room into the large one. Thompson went first; Mrs Crawley +with her veil down came next; and the wretched man followed his wife, +with his eyes fixed upon the ground and his hands clasped together +upon his breast. He could at first have seen nothing, and could +hardly have known where he was when they placed him in a chair. She, +with better courage, contrived to look round through her veil, and +saw that there was a long board or table covered with green cloth, +and that six or seven gentlemen were sitting at one end of it, while +there seemed to be a crowd standing along the sides and about the +room. Her husband was seated at the other end of the table, near the +corner, and round the corner,—so that she might be close to +him,—her chair had been placed. On the other side of him there was +another chair, now empty, intended for any professional gentleman +whom he might choose to employ.</p> + +<p>There were five magistrates sitting there. Lord Lufton, from Framley, +was in the chair;—a handsome man, still young, who was very popular +in the county. The cheque which had been cashed had borne his +signature, and he had consequently expressed his intention of not +sitting at the board; but Mr Walker, desirous of having him there, +had overruled him, showing him that the loss was not his loss. The +cheque, if stolen, had not been stolen from him. He was not the +prosecutor. "No, by Jove," said Lord Lufton, "if I could quash the +whole thing, I'd do it at once!"</p> + +<p>"You can't do that, my lord, but you may help us at the board," said +Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>Then there was the Hon George De Courcy, Lord De Courcy's brother, +from Castle Courcy. Lord De Courcy did not live in the county, but +his brother did so, and endeavoured to maintain the glory of the +family by the discretion of his conduct. He was not, perhaps, among +the wisest of men, but he did very well as a county magistrate, +holding his tongue, keeping his eyes open, and, on such occasions as +this, obeying Mr Walker in all things. Dr Tempest was also there, the +rector of the parish, he being both magistrate and clergyman. There +were many in Silverbridge who declared that Dr Tempest would have +done far better to stay away when a brother clergyman was thus to be +brought before the bench; but it had been long since Dr Tempest had +cared what was said about him in Silverbridge. He had become so +accustomed to the life he led as to like to be disliked, and to be +enamoured of unpopularity. So when Mr Walker had ventured to suggest +to him that, perhaps, he might not choose to be there, he had laughed +Mr Walker to scorn. "Of course I shall be there," he said. "I am +interested in the case,—very much interested. Of course I shall be +there." And had not Lord Lufton been present he would have made +himself more conspicuous by taking the chair. Mr Fothergill was the +fourth. Mr Fothergill was man of business to the Duke of Omnium, who +was the great owner of property in and about Silverbridge, and he was +the most active magistrate in that part of the county. He was a sharp +man, and not at all likely to have any predisposition in favour of a +clergyman. The fifth was Dr Thorne, of Chaldicotes, a gentleman whose +name has been already mentioned in these pages. He had been for many +years a medical man practising in a little village in the further end +of the county; but it had come to be his fate, late in life, to marry +a great heiress, with whose money the ancient house and domain of +Chaldicotes had been purchased from the Sowerbys. Since then Dr +Thorne had done his duty well as a country gentleman,—not, however, +without some little want of smoothness between him and the duke's +people.</p> + +<p>Chaldicotes lay next to the duke's territory, and the duke had wished +to buy Chaldicotes. When Chaldicotes slipped through the duke's +fingers and went into the hands of Dr Thorne,—or of Dr Thorne's +wife,—the duke had been very angry with Mr Fothergill. Hence it had +come to pass that there had not always been smoothness between the +duke's people and the Chaldicotes people. It was now rumoured that Dr +Thorne intended to stand for the county on the next vacancy, and that +did not tend to make things smoother. On the right hand of Lord +Lufton sat Lord George and Mr Fothergill, and beyond Mr Fothergill +sat Mr Walker, and beyond Mr Walker sat Mr Walker's clerk. On the +left hand of the chairman were Dr Tempest and Dr Thorne, and a little +lower down was Mr Zachary Winthrop, who held the situation of clerk +to the magistrates. Many people in Silverbridge said that this was +all wrong, as Mr Winthrop was partner with Mr Walker, who was always +employed before the magistrates if there was any employment going for +an attorney. For this, however, Mr Walker cared very little. He had +so much of his own way in Silverbridge, that he was supposed to care +nothing for anybody.</p> + +<p>There were many other gentlemen in the room, and some who knew Mr +Crawley with more or less intimacy. He, however, took notice of no +one, and when one friend, who had really known him well, came up +behind and spoke to him gently leaning over his chair, the poor man +hardly recognised his friend.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure your husband won't forget me," said Mr Robarts, the +clergyman at Framley, as he gave his hand to that lady across the +back of Mr Crawley's chair.</p> + +<p>"No, Mr Robarts, he does not forget you. But you must excuse him if +at this moment he is not quite himself. It is a trying situation for +a clergyman."</p> + +<p>"I can understand all that; but I'll tell you why I have come. I +suppose this inquiry will finish the whole affair, and clear up +whatever may be the difficulty. But should it not do so, it may be +just possible, Mrs Crawley, that something may be said about bail. I +don't understand much about it, and I daresay you do not either; but +if there should be anything of that sort, let Mr Crawley name me. A +brother clergyman will be best, and I'll have some other gentleman +with me." Then he left without waiting for any answer.</p> + +<p>At the same time there was a conversation going on between Mr Walker +and another attorney standing behind him, Mr Mason. "I'll go to him," +said Walker, "and try to arrange it." So Mr Walker seated himself in +the empty chair beside Mr Crawley, and endeavoured to explain to the +wretched man, that he would do well to allow Mr Mason to assist him. +Mr Crawley seemed to listen to all that was said, and then turned +upon the speaker sharply: "I will have no one to assist me," he said +so loudly that every one in the room heard the words. "I am innocent. +Why should I want assistance? Nor have I money to pay for it." Mr +Mason made a quick movement forward, intending to explain that that +consideration need offer no impediment, but was stopped by further +speech from Mr Crawley. "I will have no one to help me," said he, +standing upright, and for the first time removing his hat from his +head. "Go on, and do what it is you have to do." After than he did +not sit down till the proceedings were nearly over, though he was +invited more than once by Lord Lufton to do so.</p> + +<p>We need not go through all the evidence that was brought to bear upon +the question. It was proved that money for the cheque was paid to Mr +Crawley's messenger, and that this money was given to Mr Crawley. +When there occurred some little delay in the chain of evidence +necessary to show that Mr Crawley had signed and sent the cheque and +got the money, he became impatient. "Why do you trouble the man?" he +said. "I had the cheque, and I sent him; I got the money. Has any one +denied it, that you would strive to drive a poor man like that beyond +his wits?" Then Mr Soames and the manager of the bank showed what +inquiry had been made as soon as the cheque came back from the London +bank; how at first they had both thought that Mr Crawley could of +course explain the matter, and how he had explained it by a statement +which was manifestly untrue. Then there was evidence to prove that +the cheque could not have been paid to him by Mr Soames, and as this +was given, Mr Crawley shook his head and again became impatient. "I +erred in that," he exclaimed. "Of course I erred. In my haste I +thought it was so, and in my haste I said so. I am not good at +reckoning money and remembering sums; but I saw that I had been wrong +when my error was shown to me, and I acknowledged at once that I had +been wrong."</p> + +<p>Up to this point he had behaved not only with so much spirit, but +with so much reason, that his wife began to hope that the importance +of the occasion had brought back the clearness of his mind, and that +he would, even now, be able to place himself right as the inquiry +went on. Then it was explained that Mr Crawley had stated that the +cheque had been given to him by Dean Arabin, as soon as it was shown +that it could not have been given to him by Mr Soames. In reference +to this, Mr Walker was obliged to explain that application had been +made to the dean, who was abroad, and that the dean had stated that +he had given fifty pounds to his friend. Mr Walker explained also +that the very notes of which this fifty pounds had consisted had been +traced back to Mr Crawley, and that they had no connexion with the +cheque or with the money which had been given for the cheque at the +bank.</p> + +<p>Mr Soames stated that he had lost the cheque with a pocket-book; that +he had certainly lost it on the day on which he had called on Mr +Crawley at Hogglestock; and that he missed his pocket-book on his +journey back from Hogglestock to Barchester. At the moment of missing +it he remembered that he had taken the book out from his pocket in Mr +Crawley's room, and, at that moment, he had not doubted but that he +had left it in Mr Crawley's house. He had written and sent to Mr +Crawley to inquire, but had been assured that nothing had been found. +There had been no other property of value in the +pocket-book,—nothing but a few visiting-cards and a memorandum, and +he had therefore stopped the cheque at the London bank, and thought +no more about it.</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley was then asked to explain in what way he came possessed of +the cheque. The question was first put by Lord Lufton; but it soon +fell into Mr Walker's hands, who certainly asked it with all the +kindness with which such an inquiry could be made. Could Mr Crawley +at all remember by what means that bit of paper had come into his +possession, or how long he had had it? He answered the last question +first. "It had been with him for months." And why had he kept it. He +looked round the room sternly, almost savagely, before he answered, +fixing his eyes for a moment upon almost every face around him as he +did so. Then he spoke. "I was driven by shame to keep it,—and then +by shame to use it." That this statement was true, no one in the room +doubted.</p> + +<p>And then the other question was pressed upon him; and he lifted up +his hands, and raised his voice, and swore by the Saviour in whom he +trusted, that he knew not from whence the money had come to him. Why +then had he said that it had come from the dean? He had thought so. +The dean had given him money, covered up, in an enclosure, "so that +the touch of the coin might not add to my disgrace in taking his +alms," said the wretched man, thus speaking openly and freely in his +agony of the shame which he had striven so persistently to hide. He +had not seen the dean's monies as they had been given, and he had +thought that the cheque had been with them. Beyond that he could tell +them nothing.</p> + +<p>Then there was a conference between the magistrates and Mr Walker, in +which Mr Walker submitted that the magistrates had no alternative but +to commit the gentleman. To this Lord Lufton demurred, and with him +Dr Thorne.</p> + +<p>"I believe, as I am sitting here," said Lord Lufton, "that he has +told the truth, and that he does not know any more than I do from +whence the cheque came."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure he does not," said Dr Thorne.</p> + +<p>Lord George remarked that it was the "queerest go he had ever come +across." Dr Tempest merely shook his head. Mr Fothergill pointed out +that even supposing the gentleman's statement to be true, it by no +means went towards establishing the gentleman's innocence. The cheque +had been traced to the gentleman's hands, and the gentleman was bound +to show how it had come into his possession. Even supposing that the +gentleman had found the cheque in his house, which was likely enough, +he was not thereby justified in changing it, and applying the +proceeds to his own purposes. Mr Walker told them that Mr Fothergill +was right, and that the only excuse to be made for Mr Crawley was +that he was out of his senses.</p> + +<p>"I don't see it," said Lord Lufton. "I might have a lot of paper +money by me, and not know from Adam where I got it."</p> + +<p>"But you would have to show where you got it, my lord, when inquiry +was made," said Mr Fothergill.</p> + +<p>Lord Lufton, who was not particularly fond of Mr Fothergill, and was +very unwilling to be instructed by him in any of the duties of a +magistrate, turned his back at once upon the duke's agent; but within +three minutes afterwards he had submitted to the same instructions +from Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley had again seated himself, and during this period of the +affair was leaning over the table with his face buried on his arms. +Mrs Crawley sat by his side, utterly impotent as to any assistance, +just touching him with her hand, and waiting behind her veil till she +should be made to understand what was the decision of the +magistrates. This was at last communicated to her,—and to him,—in a +whisper by Mr Walker. Mr Crawley must understand that he was +committed to take his trial at Barchester, at the next assizes, which +would be held in April, but that bail would be taken;—his own bail +in five hundred pounds, and that of two others in two hundred and +fifty pounds each. And Mr Walker explained further that he and the +bailmen were ready, and that the bail-bond was prepared. The bailmen +were to be the Rev Mr Robarts and Major Grantly. In five minutes the +bond was signed and Mr Crawley was at liberty to go away, a free +man,—till the Barchester Assizes should come round in April.</p> + +<p>Of all that was going on at this time Mr Crawley knew little or +nothing, and Mrs Crawley did not know much. She did say a word of +thanks to Mr Robarts, and begged that the same might be said to—the +other gentleman. If she had heard the Major's name she did not +remember it. Then they were led out back into the bedroom, where Mrs +Walker was found, anxious to do something, if she only knew what, to +comfort the wretched husband and the wretched wife. But what comfort +or consolation could there be within their reach? There was tea made +ready for them, and sandwiches cut from the Inn larder. And there was +sherry in the Inn decanter. But no such comfort as that was possible +for either of them.</p> + +<p>They were taken home again in the fly, returning without the escort +of Mr Thompson, and as they went some few words were spoken by Mrs +Crawley. "Josiah," she said, "there will be a way out of this, even +yet, if you will only hold up your head and trust."</p> + +<p>"There is a way out of it," he said. "There is a way. There is but +one way." When he had spoken she said no more, but resolved that her +eye should never be off him, no,—not for a moment. Then, when she +had gotten him once more into that front parlour, she threw her arms +round him and kissed him.</p> + + +<p><a name="c9" id="c9"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> +<h3>Grace Crawley Goes to Allington<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The tidings of what had been done by the magistrates at their petty +sessions was communicated the same night to Grace Crawley by Miss +Prettyman. Miss Anne Prettyman had heard the news within five minutes +of the execution of the bail-bond, and had rushed to her sister with +information as to the event. "They have found him guilty; they have, +indeed. They have convicted him,—or whatever it is, because he +couldn't say where he got it." "You do not mean that they have sent +him to prison?" "No;—not to prison; not as yet, that is. I don't +understand it altogether; but he's to be tried again at the assizes. +In the meantime he's to be out on bail. Major Grantly is to be the +bail,—and Mr Robarts. That, I think, was very nice of him." It was +undoubtedly the fact that Miss Anne Prettyman had received an +accession of pleasurable emotion when she learned that Mr Crawley had +not been sent away scatheless, but had been condemned, as it were, to +a public trial at the assizes. And yet she would have done anything +in her power to save Grace Crawley, or even to save her father. And +it must be explained that Miss Anne Prettyman was supposed to be +specially efficient in teaching Roman history to her pupils, although +she was so manifestly ignorant of the course of the law in the +country in which she lived. "Committed him," said Miss Prettyman, +correcting her sister with scorn. "They have not convicted him. Had +they convicted him, there could be no question of bail." "I don't +know how all that is, Annabella, but at any rate Major Grantly is to +be the bailsman, and there is to be another trial at Barchester." +"There cannot be more than one trial in a criminal case," said Miss +Prettyman, "unless the jury should disagree, or something of that +kind. I suppose he has been committed and that the trial will take +place at the assizes." "Exactly,—that's just it." Had Lord Lufton +appeared as lictor and had Thompson carried the fasces, Miss Anne +would have known more about it.</p> + +<p>The sad tidings were not told to Grace till the evening. Mrs Crawley, +when the inquiry was over before the magistrates, would fain have had +herself driven to the Miss Prettymans' school, that she might see her +daughter; but she felt that to be impossible while her husband was in +her charge. The father would of course have gone to his child, had +the visit been suggested to him; but that would have caused another +terrible scene; and the mother, considering it all in her mind, +thought it better to abstain. Miss Prettyman did her best to make +poor Grace think that the affair had so far gone favourably,—did her +best, that is, without saying anything which her conscience told her +to be false. "It is to be settled at the assizes in April," she said.</p> + +<p>"And in the meantime what will become of papa?"</p> + +<p>"Your papa will be at home, just as usual. He must have some one to +advise him. I dare say it would have been all over now if he would +have employed an attorney."</p> + +<p>"But it seems so hard that an attorney should be wanted."</p> + +<p>"My dear Grace, things in this world are hard."</p> + +<p>"But they are always harder for papa and mamma than for anybody +else." In answer to this, Miss Prettyman made some remarks intended +to be wise and kind at the same time. Grace, whose eyes were laden +with tears, made no immediate reply to this, but reverted to her +former statement, that she must go home. "I cannot remain, Miss +Prettyman; I am so unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Will you be more happy at home?"</p> + +<p>"I can bear it better there."</p> + +<p>The poor girl soon learned from the intended consolations of those +around her, from the ill-considered kindness of the pupils, and from +words which fell from the servants, that her father had in fact been +judged to be guilty, as far as judgment had as yet gone. "They do +say, miss, it's only because he hadn't a lawyer," said the +housekeeper. And if men so kind as Lord Lufton and Mr Walker had made +him out to be guilty, what could be expected from a stern judge down +from London, who would know nothing about her poor father and his +peculiarities, and from twelve jurymen who would be shopkeepers out +of Barchester. It would kill her father, and then it would kill her +mother; and after that it would kill her also. And there was no money +in the house at home. She knew it well. She had been paid three +pounds a month for her services at the school, and the money for the +last two months had been sent to her mother. Yet, badly as she wanted +anything that she might be able to earn, she knew that she could not +go on teaching. It had come to be acknowledged by both the Miss +Prettymans that any teaching on her part for the present was +impossible. She would go home and perish with the rest of them. There +was no room left for hope to her, or to any of her family. They had +accused her father of being a common thief,—her father whom she knew +to be so nobly honest, her father whom she believed to be among the +most devoted of God's servants. He was accused of a paltry theft, and +the magistrates and lawyers and policemen among them had decided that +the accusation was true! How could she look the girls in the face +after that, or attempt to hold her own among the teachers!</p> + +<p>On the next morning there came a letter from Miss Lily Dale, and with +that in her hand she again went to Miss Prettyman. She must go home, +she said. She must at any rate go to her mother. Could Miss Prettyman +be kind enough to send her home. "I haven't sixpence to pay for +anything," she said, bursting into tears; "and I haven't a right to +ask for it." Then the statements which Miss Prettyman made in her +eagerness to cover this latter misfortune were decidedly false. There +was so much money owing to Grace, she said; money for this, money for +that, money for anything or nothing! Ten pounds would hardly clear +the account. "Nobody owes me anything; but if you'll lend me five +shillings!" said Grace, in her agony. Miss Prettyman, as she made her +way through this difficulty, thought of Major Grantly and his love. +It would have been of no use, she knew. Had she brought them together +on that Monday, Grace would have said nothing to him. Indeed such a +meeting at such a time would have been improper. But, regarding Major +Grantly, as she did, in the light of a millionaire,—for the wealth +of the Archdeacon was notorious,—she could not but think it a pity +that poor Grace should be begging for five shillings. "You need not +at any rate trouble yourself about money, Grace," said Miss +Prettyman. "What is a pound or two more or less between you and me? +It is almost unkind of you to think about it. Is that letter in your +hand anything for me to see, my dear?" Then Grace explained that she +did not wish to show Miss Dale's letter, but that Miss Dale had asked +her to go to Allington. "And you will go," said Miss Prettyman. "It +will be the best thing for you, and the best thing for your mother."</p> + +<p>It was at last decided that Grace should go to her friend at +Allington, and to Allington she went. She returned home for a day or +two, and was persuaded by her mother to accept the invitation that +had been given her. At Hogglestock, while she was there, new troubles +came up, of which something shall shortly be told; but they were +troubles in which Grace could give no assistance to her mother, and +which, indeed, though they were in truth troubles, as will be seen, +were so far beneficent that they stirred her father up to a certain +action which was in itself salutary. "I think it will be better that +you should be away, dearest," said her mother, who now, for the first +time, heard plainly all that poor Grace had to tell about Major +Grantly;—Grace having, heretofore, barely spoken, in most ambiguous +words, of Major Grantly as a gentleman whom she had met at Framley, +and whom she had described as being "very nice".</p> + +<p>In old days, long ago, Lucy Robarts, the present Lady Lufton, sister +of the Rev Mark Robarts, the parson of Framley, had sojourned for a +while under Mrs Crawley's roof at Hogglestock. Peculiar +circumstances, which need not, perhaps, be told here, had given +occasion for the visit. She had then resolved,—for her future +destiny been known to her before she had left Mrs Crawley's +house,—that she would in coming days do much to befriend the family +of her friend; but the doing of much had been very difficult. And the +doing of anything had come to be very difficult through a certain +indiscretion on Lord Lufton's part. Lord Lufton had offered +assistance, pecuniary assistance, to Mr Crawley, which Mr Crawley had +rejected with outspoken anger. What was Lord Lufton to him that his +lordship should dare to come to him with his paltry money in his +hand? But after a while, Lady Lufton, exercising some cunning in the +operations of her friendship, had persuaded her sister-in-law at the +Framley parsonage to have Grace Crawley over there as a visitor,—and +there she had been during the summer holidays previous to the +commencement of our story. And there, at Framley, she had become +acquainted with Major Grantly, who was staying with Lord Lufton at +Framley Court. She had then said something to her mother about Major +Grantly, something ambiguous, something about his being "very nice", +and the mother had thought how great was the pity that her daughter, +who was "nice" too in her estimation, should have so few of those +adjuncts to assist her which come from full pockets. She had thought +no more about it then; but now she felt herself constrained to think +more. "I don't quite understand why he should have come to Miss +Prettyman on Monday," said Grace, "because he hardly knows her at +all."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it was on business," said Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"No, mamma, it was not on business."</p> + +<p>"How can you tell, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Because Miss Prettyman said it was,—it was—to ask after me. Oh, +mamma, I must tell you. I know he did like me."</p> + +<p>"Did he ever say so to you, dearest?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma."</p> + +<p>"And what did you tell him?"</p> + +<p>"I told him nothing, mamma."</p> + +<p>"And did he ask to see you on Monday?"</p> + +<p>"No, mamma; I don't think he did. I think he understood it all too +well, for I could not have spoken to him then."</p> + +<p>Mrs Crawley pursued the cross-examination no further, but made up her +mind that it would be better that her girl should be away from her +wretched home during this period of her life. If it were written in +the book of fate that one of her children should be exempted from the +series of misfortunes which seemed to fall, one after another, almost +as a matter of course, upon her husband, upon her, and upon her +family; if so great good fortune were in store for her Grace as such +a marriage as this which seemed to be so nearly offered to her, it +might probably be well that Grace should be as little at home as +possible. Mrs Crawley had heard nothing but good of Major Grantly; +but she knew that the Grantlys were proud rich people,—who lived +with their heads high up in the county,—and it could hardly be that +a son of the archdeacon would like to take his bride direct from +Hogglestock parsonage.</p> + +<p>It was settled that Grace should go to Allington as soon as a letter +could be received from Miss Dale in return to Grace's note, and on +the third morning after her arrival at home she started. None but +they who have themselves been poor gentry,—gentry so poor as not to +know how to raise a shilling,—can understand the peculiar bitterness +of the trials which such poverty produces. The poverty of the normal +poor does not approach it; or, rather, the pangs arising from such +poverty are altogether of a different sort. To be hungry and have no +food, to be cold and have no fuel, to be threatened with distraint +for one's few chairs and tables, and with the loss of the roof over +one's head,—all these miseries, which, if they do not positively +reach, are so frequently near to reaching the normal poor, are, no +doubt, the severest of the trials to which humanity is subjected. +They threaten life,—or, if not life, then liberty,—reducing the +abject one to a choice between captivity and starvation. By hook or +crook, the poor gentleman or poor lady,—let the one or the other be +ever so poor,—does not often come to the last extremity of the +workhouse. There are such cases, but they are exceptional. Mrs +Crawley, through all her sufferings, had never yet found her cupboard +to be absolutely bare, or the bread-pan to be actually empty. But +there are pangs to which, at the time, starvation itself would seem +to be preferable. The angry eyes of unpaid tradesman, savage with +anger which one knows to be justifiable; the taunt of the poor +servant who wants her wages; the gradual relinquishment of habits +which the soft nurture of earlier, kinder years had made second +nature; the wan cheeks of the wife whose malady demands wine; the +rags of the husband whose outward occupations demand decency; the +neglected children, who are learning not be the children of +gentlefolk; and, worse than all, the alms and doles of half-generous +friends, the waning pride, the pride that will not wane, the growing +doubt whether it be not better to bow the head, and acknowledge to +all the world that nothing of the pride of station is left,—that the +hand is open to receive and ready to touch the cap, that the fall +from the upper to the lower level has been accomplished,—these are +the pangs of poverty which drive the Crawleys of the world to the +frequent entertaining of that idea of the bare bodkin. It was settled +that Grace should go to Allington;—but how about her clothes? And +then, whence was to come the price of her journey?</p> + +<p>"I don't think they'll mind about my being shabby at Allington. They +live very quietly there."</p> + +<p>"But you say that Miss Dale is so very nice in all her ways."</p> + +<p>"Lily is very nice, mamma; but I shan't mind her so much as her +mother, because she knows it all. I have told her everything."</p> + +<p>"But you have given me all your money, dearest."</p> + +<p>"Miss Prettyman told me I was to come to her," said Grace, who had +already taken some from the schoolmistress, which at once had gone +into her mother's pocket, and into household purposes. "She said I +should be sure to go to Allington, and that of course I should go to +her, as I must pass through Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"I hope papa will not ask about it," said Mrs Crawley. Luckily papa +did not ask about it, being at the moment occupied much with other +thoughts and other troubles, and Grace was allowed to return by +Silverbridge, and to take what was needed from Miss Prettyman. Who +can tell of the mending and patching, of the weary wearing midnight +hours of needlework which were accomplished before the poor girl +went, so that she might not reach her friend's house in actual rags? +And when the work was ended, what was there to show for it? I do not +think that the idea of the bare bodkin, as regarded herself, ever +flitted across Miss Crawley's brain,—she being one of those who are +very strong to endure; but it must have occurred to her very often +that the repose of the grave is sweet, and that there cometh after +death a levelling and making even of things, which would at last cure +all her evils.</p> + +<p>Grace no doubt looked forward to a levelling and making even of +things,—or perhaps even to something more prosperous than that, +which should come to her relief on this side of the grave. She could +not but have high hopes in regard to her future destiny. Although, as +has been said, she understood no more than she ought to have +understood from Miss Prettyman's account of the conversation with +Major Grantly, still, innocent as she was, she had understood much. +She knew that the man loved her, and she knew also that she loved the +man. She thoroughly comprehended that the present could be to her no +time for listening to speeches of love, or for giving kind answers; +but still I think that she did look for relief on this side of the +grave.</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut," said Miss Prettyman, as Grace in vain tried to conceal +her tears up in the private sanctum. "You ought to know me by this +time, and to have learned that I can understand things." The tears +had flown in return not only for the five gold sovereigns which Miss +Prettyman had pressed into her hand, but on account of the prettiest, +soft, grey merino frock that ever charmed a girl's eye. "I should +like to know how many girls I have given dresses to, when they have +been going out visiting. Law, my dear; they take them, many of them, +from us old maids, almost as if we were only paying our debts in +giving them." And then Miss Anne gave her a cloth cloak, very warm, +with pretty buttons and gimp trimmings,—just such a cloak as any +girl might like to wear who thought that she would be seen out +walking by her Major Grantly on a Christmas morning. Grace Crawley +did not expect to be seen out walking by her Major Grantly, but +nevertheless she liked the cloak. By the power of her practical will, +and by her true sympathy, the elder Miss Prettyman had for a while +conquered the annoyance which, on Grace's part, was attached to the +receiving of gifts, by the consciousness of her poverty; and when +Miss Anne, with some pride in the tone of her voice, expressed a hope +that Grace would think the cloak pretty, Grace put her arms +pleasantly round her friend's neck, and declared that it was very +pretty,—the prettiest cloak in all the world!</p> + +<p>Grace was met at the Guestwick railway-station by her friend Lilian +Dale, and was driven over to Allington in a pony carriage belonging +to Lilian's uncle, the squire of the parish. I think she will be +excused in having put on her new cloak, not so much because of the +cold as with a view of making the best of herself before Mrs Dale. +And yet she knew Mrs Dale would know all the circumstances of her +poverty, and was very glad that it should be so. "I am so glad that +you have come, dear," said Lily. "It will be such a comfort."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you are very good," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"And mamma is so glad. From the moment that we both talked ourselves +into eagerness about it,—while I was writing my letter, you know, we +resolved that it must be so."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I shall be a great trouble to Mrs Dale."</p> + +<p>"A trouble to mamma! Indeed you will not. You shall be a trouble to +no one but me. I will have all the trouble myself, and the labour I +delight in shall physic my pain."</p> + +<p>Grace Crawley could not during the journey be at home and at ease +even with her friend Lily. She was going to a strange house under +strange circumstances. Her father had not indeed been tried and found +guilty of theft, but the charge of theft had been made against him, +and the magistrates before whom it had been made had thought that the +charge was true. Grace knew that all the local newspapers had told +the story, and was of course aware that Mrs Dale would have heard it. +Her own mind was full of it, and though she dreaded to speak of it, +yet she could not be silent. Miss Dale, who understood much of this, +endeavoured to talk her friend into easiness; but she feared to begin +upon the one subject, and before the drive was over they were, both +of them, too cold for much conversation. "There's mamma," said Miss +Dale as they drove up, turning out of the street of the village to +the door of Mrs Dale's house. "She always knows, by instinct, when I +am coming. You must understand now that you are among us, that mamma +and I are not mother and daughter, but two loving old ladies living +together in peace and harmony. We do have our quarrels,—whether the +chicken shall be roast or boiled, but never anything beyond that. +Mamma, here is Grace, starved to death; and she says if you don't +give her some tea she will go back at once."</p> + +<p>"I will give her some tea," said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>"And I am worse than she is, because I've been driving. It's all up +with Bernard and Mr Green for the next week at least. It is freezing +as hard as it can freeze, and they might as well try to hunt in +Lapland as here."</p> + +<p>"They'll console themselves with skating," said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever observed, Grace," said Miss Dale, "how much amusement +gentlemen require, and how imperative it is that some other game +should be provided when one game fails?"</p> + +<p>"Not particularly," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it is so. Now, with women, it is supposed that they can +amuse themselves or live without amusement. Once or twice in a year, +perhaps something is done for them. There is an arrow-shooting party, +or a ball, or a picnic. But the catering for men's sport is never +ending, and is always paramount to everything else. And yet the pet +game of the day never goes off properly. In partridge time, the +partridges are wild, and won't come to be killed. In hunting time the +foxes won't run straight,—the wretches. They show no spirit, and +will take to ground to save their brushes. Then comes a nipping +frost, and skating is proclaimed; but the ice is always rough, and +the woodcocks have deserted the country. And as for salmon,—when the +summer comes round I do really believe that they suffer a great deal +about the salmon. I'm sure they never catch any. So they go back to +their clubs and their cards, and their billiards, and abuse their +cooks and blackball their friends. That's about it, mamma; is it +not?"</p> + +<p>"You know more about it than I do, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Because I have to listen to Bernard, as you never will do. We've got +such a Mr Green down here, Grace. He's such a duck of a man,—such +top-boots and all the rest of it. And yet they whisper to me that he +doesn't ride always to hounds. And to see him play billiards is +beautiful, only he can never make a stroke. I hope you play +billiards, Grace, because uncle Christopher has just had a new table +put up."</p> + +<p>"I never saw a billiard-table yet," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"Then Mr Green shall teach you. He'll do anything that you ask him. +If you don't approve the colour of the ball, he'll go to London to +get you another one. Only you must be very careful about saying that +you like anything before him, as he'll be sure to have it for you the +next day. Mamma happened to say that she wanted a fourpenny postage +stamp, and he walked off to Guestwick to get it for her instantly, +although it was lunchtime."</p> + +<p>"He did nothing of the kind, Lily," said her mother. "He was going to +Guestwick, and was very good-natured, and brought me back a +postage-stamp that I wanted."</p> + +<p>"Of course he's good-natured, I know that. And there's my cousin +Bernard. He's Captain Dale, you know. But he prefers to be called Mr +Dale, because he has left the army, and has set up as junior squire +of the parish. Uncle Christopher is the real squire; only Bernard +does all the work. And now you know all about us. I'm afraid you'll +find us dull enough,—unless you can take a fancy to Mr Green."</p> + +<p>"Does Mr Green live here?"</p> + +<p>"No; he does not live here. I never heard of his living anywhere. He +was something once, but I don't know what; and I don't think he's +anything now in particular. But he's Bernard's friend, and like most +men, as one sees them, he never has much to do. Does Major Grantly +ever go forth to fight his country's battles?" This last question she +asked in a low whisper, so that the words did not reach her mother. +Grace blushed up to her eyes, however, as she answered,—</p> + +<p>"I think that Major Grantly has left the army."</p> + +<p>"We shall get her round in a day or two, mamma," said Lily Dale to +her mother that night. "I'm sure it will be the best thing to force +her to talk of her troubles."</p> + +<p>"I would not use too much force, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Things are better when they're talked about. I'm sure they are. And +it will be good to make her accustomed to speak of Major Grantly. +From what Mary Walker tells me, he certainly means it. And if so, she +should be ready for it when it comes."</p> + +<p>"Do not make her ready for what may never come."</p> + +<p>"No, mamma; but she is at present such a child that she knows nothing +of her own powers. She should be made to understand that it is +possible that even a Major Grantly may think himself fortunate in +being allowed to love her."</p> + +<p>"I should leave all that to Nature, if I were you," said Mrs Dale.</p> + + +<p><a name="c10" id="c10"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> +<h3>Dinner at Framley Court<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lord Lufton, as he drove home to Framley after the meeting of the +magistrates at Silverbridge, discussed the matter with his +brother-in-law, Mark Robarts, the clergyman. Lord Lufton was driving +a dog-cart, and went along the road at the rate of twelve miles an +hour. "I'll tell you what it is, Mark," he said, "that man is +innocent; but if he won't employ lawyers at his trial, the jury will +find him guilty."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to think about it," said the clergyman.</p> + +<p>"Were you in the room when he protested so vehemently that he did not +know where he got the money?"</p> + +<p>"I was in the room all the time."</p> + +<p>"And did you not believe him when he said that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I did."</p> + +<p>"Anybody must have believed him,—except old Tempest, who never +believes anybody, and Fothergill, who always suspects everybody. The +truth is, that he found the cheque and put it by, and did not +remember anything about it."</p> + +<p>"But, Lufton, surely that would amount to stealing it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, if it wasn't that he is such a poor, cracked, crazy creature, +with his mind all abroad. I think Soames did drop his book in his +house. I'm sure Soames would not say so unless he was quite +confident. Somebody has picked it up, and in some way the cheque has +got into Crawley's hand. Then he has locked it up and forgotten all +about it; and when that butcher threatened him, he has put his hand +upon it, and he thought, or believed, that it had come from Soames or +the dean or from heaven, if you will. When a man is so crazy as that, +you can't judge of him as you do of others."</p> + +<p>"But a jury must judge of him as it would of others."</p> + +<p>"And therefore there should be a lawyer to tell the jury what to do. +They should have somebody up out of the parish to show that he is +beside himself half his time. His wife would be the best person, only +it would be hard lines on her."</p> + +<p>"Very hard. And after all he would only escape by being shown to be +mad."</p> + +<p>"And he is mad."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Proudie would come upon him in such a case as that, and +sequester his living."</p> + +<p>"And what will Mrs Proudie do when he's a convicted thief? Simply +unfrock him, and take away his living altogether. Nothing on earth +should induce me to find him guilty if I were on a jury."</p> + +<p>"But you have committed him."</p> + +<p>"Yes,—I've been one, at least, in doing so. I simply did that which +Walker told us we must do. A magistrate is not left to himself as a +juryman is. I'd eat the biggest pair of boots in Barchester before I +found him guilty. I say, Mark, you must talk it over with the women, +and see what can be done for them. Lucy tells me that they're so +poor, that if they have bread to eat, it's as much as they have."</p> + +<p>On this evening Archdeacon Grantly and his wife dined and slept at +Framley Court, there having been a very long family friendship +between old Lady Lufton and the Grantlys, and Dr Thorne with his +wife, from Chaldicotes, also dined at Framley. There was also there +another clergyman from Barchester, Mr Champion, one of the prebends +of the cathedral. There were only three now who had houses in the +city since the retrenchments of the ecclesiastical commission had +come into full force. And this Mr Champion was dear to the Dowager +Lady Lufton, because he carried on worthily the clerical war against +the bishop which had raged in Barchester ever since Dr Proudie had +come there,—which war old Lady Lufton, good and pious and charitable +as she was, considered that she was bound to keep up, even to the +knife, till Dr Proudie and all his satellites should have been +banished into outer darkness. As the light of the Proudies still +shone brightly, it was probable that poor old Lady Lufton might die +before her battle was accomplished. She often said that it would be +so, but when so saying, always expressed a wish that the fight might +be carried on after her death. "I shall never, never rest in my +grave," she had once said to the archdeacon, "while that woman sits +in your father's palace." For the archdeacon's father had been Bishop +of Barchester before Dr Proudie. What mode of getting rid of the +bishop or his wife Lady Lufton proposed to herself, I am unable to +say; but I think she lived in hopes that in some way it might be +done. If only the bishop could have been found to have stolen a +cheque for twenty pounds instead of poor Mr Crawley, Lady Lufton +would, I think, have been satisfied.</p> + +<p>In the course of these battles Framley Court would sometimes assume a +clerical aspect,—having a prevailing hue, as it were, of black +coats, which was not altogether to the taste of Lord Lufton, and as +to which he would make complaint to his wife, and to Mark Robarts, +himself a clergyman. "There's more of this than I can stand," he'd +say to the latter. "There's a deuced deal more of it than you like +yourself, I know."</p> + +<p>"It's not for me to like or dislike. It's a great thing having your +mother in the parish."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well; and of course she'll do as she likes. She may +ask whom she pleases here, and I shan't interfere. It's the same as +though it was her own house. But I shall take Lucy to Lufton." Now +Lord Lufton had been building his house at Lufton for the last seven +years and it was not yet finished,—or nearly finished, if all that +his wife had said were true. And if they could have their way, it +never would be finished. And so, in order that Lord Lufton might not +actually be driven away by the turmoils of ecclesiastical contest, +the younger Lady Lufton would endeavour to moderate both the wrath +and the zeal of the elder one, and would struggle against the coming +clergymen. On this day, however, three sat at the board at Framley, +and Lady Lufton, in her justification to her son, swore that the +invitation had been given by her daughter-in-law. "You know, my +dear," the dowager said to Lord Lufton, "something must be done for +these poor Crawleys; and as the dean is away, Lucy wants to speak to +the archdeacon about them."</p> + +<p>"And the archdeacon could not subscribe his ten-pound note without +having Mr Champion to back him?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Ludovic, you do put it in such a way."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, mother. I've no special dislike to Champion, only as you +are not paid five thousand pound a year for your trouble, it is +rather hard that you should have to do all the work of opposition +bishop in the diocese."</p> + +<p>It was felt by them all,—including Lord Lufton himself, who became +so interested in the matter as to forgive the black coats before the +evening was over,—that this matter of Mr Crawley's committal was +very serious, and demanded the full energies of their party. It was +known to them all that the feeling at the palace was inimical to Mr +Crawley. "That she-Beelzebub hates him for his poverty, and because +Arabin brought him into the diocese," said the archdeacon, permitting +himself to use very strong language in his allusion to the bishop's +wife. It must be recorded on his behalf that he used the phrase in +the presence only of the gentlemen of the party. I think he might +have whispered the word in the ear of his confidential friend old +Lady Lufton, and perhaps have given no offence; but he would not have +ventured to use such words aloud in the presence of ladies.</p> + +<p>"You forget, archdeacon," said Dr Thorne, laughing, "that the +she-Beelzebub is my wife's particular friend."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it," said the archdeacon. "Your wife knows better than +that. You tell her what I call her, and if she complains of the name +I'll unsay it." It may therefore be supposed that Dr Thorne, and Mrs +Thorne, and the archdeacon, knew each other intimately, and +understood each other's feelings on these matters.</p> + +<p>It was quite true that the palace party was inimical to Mr Crawley. +Mr Crawley undoubtedly was poor, and had not been so submissive to +episcopal authority as it behoves any clergyman to be whose loaves +and fishes are scanty. He had raised his back more than once against +orders emanating from the palace in a manner that had made the hairs +on the head of the bishop's wife to stand almost on end, and had +taken as much upon himself as though his living had been worth twelve +hundred a year. Mrs Proudie, almost as energetic in her language as +the archdeacon, had called him a beggarly perpetual curate. "We must +have perpetual curates, my dear," the bishop had said. "They should +know their places then. But what can you expect of a creature from +the deanery? All that ought to be altered. The dean should have no +patronage in the diocese. No dean should have any patronage. It is an +abuse from the beginning to the end. Dean Arabin, if he had any +conscience, would be doing the duty at Hogglestock himself." How the +bishop strove to teach his wife, with mildest words, what really +ought to be a dean's duty, and how the wife rejoined by teaching her +husband, not in the mildest words, what ought to be a bishop's duty, +we will not further inquire here. The fact that such dialogues took +place at the palace is recorded simply to show that the palatial +feeling in Barchester ran counter to Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>And this was cause enough, if no other cause existed, for partiality +to Mr Crawley at Framley Court. But, as has been partly explained, +there existed, if possible, even stronger ground than this for +adherence to the Crawley cause. The younger Lady Lufton had known the +Crawleys intimately, and the elder Lady Lufton had reckoned them +among the neighbouring clerical families of her acquaintance. Both +these ladies were therefore staunch in their defence of Mr Crawley. +The archdeacon himself had his own reasons,—reasons which for the +present he kept altogether within his own bosom,—for wishing that Mr +Crawley had never entered the diocese. Whether the perpetual curate +should or should not be declared to be a thief, it would terrible to +him to have to call the child of that perpetual curate his +daughter-in-law. But not the less on this occasion was he true to his +order, true to his side in the diocese, true to his hatred of the +palace.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it for a moment," he said, as he took his place on +the rug before the fire in the drawing-room when the gentlemen came +in from their wine. The ladies understood at once what it was that he +couldn't believe. Mr Crawley had for the moment so usurped the county +that nobody thought of talking of anything else.</p> + +<p>"How is it then," said Mrs Thorne, "that Lord Lufton, and my husband, +and the other wiseacres at Silverbridge, have committed him for +trial?"</p> + +<p>"Because we were told to do so by the lawyer," said Dr Thorne.</p> + +<p>"Ladies will never understand that magistrates must act in accordance +with the law," said Lord Lufton.</p> + +<p>"But you all say he's not guilty," said Mrs Robarts.</p> + +<p>"The fact is, that the magistrate cannot try the question," said the +archdeacon; "they only hear primary evidence. In this case I don't +believe Crawley would ever have been committed if he had employed an +attorney, instead of speaking for himself."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't somebody make him have an attorney?" said Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>"I don't think any attorney in the world could have spoken for him +better than he spoke for himself," said Dr Thorne.</p> + +<p>"And yet you committed him," said his wife. "What can we do for him? +Can't we pay the bail, and send him off to America?"</p> + +<p>"A jury will never find him guilty," said Lord Lufton.</p> + +<p>"And what is the truth of it?" asked the younger Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>Then the whole matter was discussed again, and it was settled among +them all that Mr Crawley had undoubtedly appropriated the cheque +through temporary obliquity of judgment,—obliquity of judgment and +forgetfulness as to the source from whence the cheque had come to +him. "He has picked it up about the house, and then has thought that +it was his own," said Lord Lufton. Had they come to the conclusion +that such an appropriation of money had been made by one of the +clergy of the palace, by one of the Proudieian party, they would +doubtless have been very loud and very bitter as to the iniquity of +the offender. They would have said much as to the weakness of the +bishop and the wickedness of the bishop's wife, and would have +declared the appropriator to have been as very a thief as ever picked +a pocket or opened a till;—but they were unanimous in their +acquittal of Mr Crawley. It had not been his intention, they said, to +be a thief, and a man should be judged only by his intention. It must +now be their object to induce a Barchester jury to look at the matter +in the same light.</p> + +<p>"When they come to understand how the land lies," said the +archdeacon, "they will be all right. There's not a tradesman in the +city who does not hate that woman as though she were<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Archdeacon," said his wife, cautioning him to repress his energy.</p> + +<p>"Their bills are all paid by this new chaplain they've got, and he is +made to claim discount on every leg of mutton," said the archdeacon. +Arguing from which fact,—or from which assertion, he came to the +conclusion that no Barchester jury would find Mr Crawley guilty.</p> + +<p>But it was agreed on all sides that it would not be well to trust to +the unassisted friendship of the Barchester tradesmen. Mr Crawley +must be provided with legal assistance, and this must be furnished to +him whether he should be willing or unwilling to receive it. That +there would be a difficulty was acknowledged. Mr Crawley was known to +be a man not easy of persuasion, with a will of his own, with a great +energy of obstinacy on points which he chose to take up as being of +importance to his calling, or to his own professional status. He had +pleaded his own cause before the magistrates, and it might be that he +would insist on doing the same thing before the judge. At last Mr +Robarts, the clergyman of Framley, was deputed from the knot of +Crawleian advocates assembled in Lady Lufton's drawing-room, to +undertake the duty of seeing Mr Crawley, and of explaining to him +that his proper defence was regarded as a matter appertaining to the +clergy and gentry generally of that part of the country, and that for +the sake of the clergy and gentry the defence must of course be +properly conducted. In such circumstances the expense of the defence +would of course be borne by the clergy and gentry concerned. It was +thought that Mr Robarts could put the matter to Mr Crawley with such +a mixture of the strength of manly friendship and the softness of +clerical persuasion, as to overcome the recognised difficulties of +the task.</p> + + +<p><a name="c11" id="c11"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> +<h3>The Bishop Sends His Inhibition<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Tidings of Mr Crawley's fate reached the palace at Barchester on the +afternoon of the day on which the magistrates had committed him. All +such tidings travel very quickly, conveyed by imperceptible wires, +and distributed by indefatigable message boys whom Rumour seems to +supply for the purpose. Barchester is twenty miles from Silverbridge +by road, and more than forty by railway. I doubt whether any one was +commissioned to send the news along the actual telegraph, and yet Mrs +Proudie knew it before four o'clock. But she did not know it quite +accurately. "Bishop," she said, standing at her husband's study door. +"They have committed that man to gaol. There was no help for them +unless they had forsworn themselves."</p> + +<p>"Not forsworn themselves, my dear," said the bishop, striving, as was +usual with him, by some meek and ineffectual word to teach his wife +that she was occasionally led by her energy into error. He never +persisted in the lessons when he found, as was usual, that they were +taken amiss.</p> + +<p>"I say forsworn themselves!" said Mrs Proudie; "and now what do you +mean to do? This is Thursday, and of course the man must not be +allowed to desecrate the church of Hogglestock by performing the +Sunday services."</p> + +<p>"If he has been committed, my dear, and is in prison<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I said nothing about prison, bishop."</p> + +<p>"Gaol, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I say they have committed him to gaol. So my informant tells me. But +of course all the Plumstead and Framley set will move heaven and +earth to get him out, so that he may be there as a disgrace to the +diocese. I wonder how the dean will feel when he hears of it! I do +indeed. For the dean, though he is an idle, useless man, with no +church principles, and no real piety, still he has a conscience. I +think he has a conscience."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he has, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Well;—let us hope so. And if he has a conscience, what must be his +feelings when he hears that this creature whom he has brought into +the diocese has been committed to gaol along with common felons."</p> + +<p>"Not with felons, my dear; at least, I should think not."</p> + +<p>"I say with common felons! A downright robbery of twenty pounds, just +as though he had broken into the bank! And so he did, with sly +artifice, which is worse in such hands than a crowbar. And now what +are we to do? Here is Thursday, and something must be done before +Sunday for the souls of those poor benighted creatures at +Hogglestock." Mrs Proudie was ready for the battle, and was even now +sniffing the blood afar-off. "I believe it's a hundred and thirty +pounds a year," she said, before the bishop had collected his +thoughts sufficiently for a reply.</p> + +<p>"I think we must find out, first of all, whether he is really to be +shut up in prison," said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"And suppose he is not to be shut up. Suppose they have been weak, or +untrue to their duty—and from what we know of the magistrates of +Barsetshire, there is too much reason to suppose that they will have +been so; suppose they have let him out, is he to go about like a +roaring lion—among the souls of the people?"</p> + +<p>The bishop shook in his shoes. When Mrs Proudie began to talk of the +souls of the people he always shook in his shoes. She had an eloquent +way of raising her voice over the word souls that was qualified to +make any ordinary man shake in his shoes. The bishop was a +conscientious man, and well knew that poor Mr Crawley, even though he +might have become a thief under terrible temptation, would not roar +at Hogglestock to the injury of any man's soul. He was aware that +this poor clergyman had done his duty laboriously and efficiently, +and he was also aware that though he might have been committed by the +magistrates, and then let out upon bail, he should not be regarded +now, in these days before his trial, as a convicted thief. But to +explain all this to Mrs Proudie was beyond his power. He knew well +that she would not hear a word in mitigation of Mr Crawley's presumed +offence. Mr Crawley belonged to the other party, and Mrs Proudie was +a thorough-going partisan. I know a man,—an excellent fellow, who, +being himself a strong politician, constantly expresses a belief that +all politicians opposed to him are thieves, child-murderers, +parricides, lovers of incest, demons upon earth. He is a strong +partisan, but not, I think, so strong as Mrs Proudie. He says that he +believes all evil of his opponents; but she really believed the evil. +The archdeacon had called Mrs Proudie a she-Beelzebub; but that was a +simple ebullition of mortal hatred. He believed her to be simply a +vulgar, interfering, brazen-faced virago. Mrs Proudie in truth +believed that the archdeacon was an actual emanation from Satan, sent +to these parts to devour souls,—as she would call it,—and that she +herself was an emanation of another sort, sent from another source +expressly to Barchester, to prevent such devouring, as far as it +might possibly be prevented by a mortal agency. The bishop knew it +all,—understood it all. He regarded the archdeacon as a clergyman +belonging to a party opposed to his party, and he disliked the man. +He knew that from his first coming into the diocese he had been +encountered with enmity by the archdeacon and the archdeacon's +friends. If left to himself he could feel and to a certain extent +could resent such enmity. But he had no faith in his wife's doctrine +of emanations. He had no faith in many things which she believed +religiously;—and yet what could he do? If he attempted to explain, +she would stop him before he had got through the first half of his +first sentence.</p> + +<p>"If he is out on bail—," commenced the bishop.</p> + +<p>"Of course he will be out on bail."</p> + +<p>"Then I think he should feel—"</p> + +<p>"Feel! such men never feel! What feeling can one expect from a +convicted thief?"</p> + +<p>"Not convicted yet, my dear," said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"A convicted thief," repeated Mrs Proudie; and she vociferated the +words in such a tone that the bishop resolved that he would for the +future let the word convicted pass without notice. After all she was +only using the phrase in a peculiar sense given to it by herself.</p> + +<p>"It won't be proper, certainly, that he should do the services," +suggested the bishop.</p> + +<p>"Proper! It would be a scandal to the whole diocese. How could he +raise his head as he pronounced the eighth commandment? That must be +at least prevented."</p> + +<p>The bishop, who was seated, fretted himself in his chair, moving +about with little movements. He knew that there was a misery coming +upon him; and, as far as he could see, it might become a great +misery,—a huge blistering sore upon him. When miseries came to him, +as they did not unfrequently, he would unconsciously endeavour to +fathom them and weigh them, and then, with some gallantry, resolve to +bear them, if he could find that their depth and weight were not too +great for his powers of endurance. He would let the cold wind whistle +by him, putting up the collar of his coat, and would encounter the +winter weather without complaint. And he would be patient under the +sun, knowing well that tranquillity is best for those who have to +bear tropical heat. But when the storm threatened to knock him off +his legs, when the earth beneath him became too hot for his poor +tender feet,—what could he do then? There had been with him such +periods of misery, during which he had wailed inwardly and had +confessed to himself that the wife of his bosom was too much for him. +Now the storm seemed to be coming very roughly. It would be demanded +of him that he should exercise certain episcopal authority which he +knew did not belong to him. Now, episcopal authority admits of being +stretched or contracted according to the character of the bishop who +uses it. It is not always easy for a bishop himself to know what he +may do, and what he may not do. He may certainly give advice to any +clergyman in his diocese, and he may give it in such form that it +will have in it something of authority. Such advice coming from a +dominant bishop to a clergyman with a submissive mind, has in it very +much of authority. But Bishop Proudie knew that Mr Crawley was not a +clergyman with a submissive mind, and he feared that he himself, as +regarded from Mr Crawley's point of view, was not a dominant bishop. +And yet he could only act by advice. "I will write to him," said the +bishop, "and will explain to him that as he is circumstanced he +should not appear in the reading-desk."</p> + +<p>"Of course he must not appear in the reading-desk. That scandal must +at any rate be inhibited." Now the bishop did not at all like the use +of the word inhibited, understanding well that Mrs Proudie intended +it to be understood as implying some episcopal command against which +there should be no appeal;—but he let it pass.</p> + +<p>"I will write to him, my dear, to-night."</p> + +<p>"And Mr Thumble can go over with the letter the first thing in the +morning."</p> + +<p>"Will not the post be better?"</p> + +<p>"No, bishop; certainly not."</p> + +<p>"He would get it sooner, if I write to-night, my dear."</p> + +<p>"In either case he will get it to-morrow morning. An hour or two will +not signify, and if Mr Thumble takes it himself we shall know how it +is received. It will be well that Thumble should be there in person +as he will want to look for lodgings in the parish."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear—"</p> + +<p>"Well, bishop?"</p> + +<p>"About lodgings? I hardly think that Mr Thumble, if we decide that Mr +Thumble shall undertake the duty<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"We have decided that Mr Thumble should undertake the duty. That is +decided."</p> + +<p>"But I do not think he should trouble himself to look for lodgings at +Hogglestock. He can go over on the Sundays."</p> + +<p>"And who is to do the parish work? Would you have that man, a +convicted thief, to look after the schools, and visit the sick, and +perhaps attend the dying?"</p> + +<p>"There will be a great difficulty; there will indeed," said the +bishop, becoming very unhappy, and feeling that he was driven by +circumstances either to assert his own knowledge or teach his wife +something of the law with reference to his position as a bishop. "Who +is to pay Mr Thumble?"</p> + +<p>"The income of the parish must be sequestrated, and he must be paid +out of that. Of course he must have the income while he does the +work."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, I cannot sequestrate the man's income."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it, bishop. If the bishop cannot sequestrate, who +can? But you are always timid in exercising the authority put into +your hands for wise purposes. Not sequestrate the income of a man who +has been proved to be a thief! You leave that to us, and we will +manage it." The "us" here named comprised Mrs Proudie and the +bishop's managing chaplain.</p> + +<p>Then the bishop was left alone for an hour to write the letter which +Mr Thumble was to carry over to Mr Crawley,—and after a while he did +write it. Before he commenced the task, however, he sat for some +moments in his arm-chair close by the fire-side, asking himself +whether it might not be possible for him to overcome his enemy in +this matter. How would it go with him suppose he were to leave the +letter unwritten, and send in a message by his chaplain to Mrs +Proudie, saying that as Mr Crawley was out on bail, the parish might +be left for the present without episcopal interference? She could not +make him interfere. She could not force him to write the letter. So, +at least, he said to himself. But as he said it, he almost thought +that she could do these things. In the last thirty years, or more, +she had ever contrived by some power latent in her to have her will +effected. But what would happen if now, even now, he were to rebel? +That he would personally become very uncomfortable, he was well +aware, but he thought that he could bear that. The food would become +bad,—mere ashes between his teeth, the daily modicum of wine would +lose its flavour, the chimneys would all smoke, the wind would come +from the east, and the servants would not answer the bell. Little +miseries of that kind would crowd upon him. He had arrived at a time +in life in which such miseries make such men very miserable; but yet +he thought that he could endure them. And what other wretchedness +would come to him? She would scold him,—frightfully, loudly, +scornfully, and worse than all, continually. But of this he had so +much habitually, that anything added might be borne also;—if only he +could be sure that the scoldings should go on in private, that the +world of the palace should not be allowed to hear the revilings to +which he would be subjected. But to be scolded publicly was the great +evil which he dreaded beyond all evils. He was well aware that the +palace would know his misfortune, that it was known, and freely +discussed by all, from the examining chaplain down to the palace +boot-boy;—nay, that it was known to all the diocese; but yet he +could smile upon those around him, and look as though he held his own +like other men,—unless when open violence was displayed. But when +that voice was heard aloud along the corridors of the palace, and +when he was summoned imperiously by the woman, calling for the +bishop, so that all Barchester heard it, and when he was compelled to +creep forth from his study, at the sound of that summons, with +distressed face, and shaking hands, and short hurrying steps,—a +being to be pitied even by a deacon,—not venturing to assume an air +of masterdom should he chance to meet a housemaid on the +stairs,—then, at such moments as that, he would feel that any +submission was better than the misery which he suffered. And he well +knew that should he now rebel, the whole house would be in a turmoil. +He would be bishoped here, and bishoped there, before the eyes of all +palatial men and women, till life would be a burden to him. So he got +up from his seat over the fire, and went to his desk and wrote the +letter. The letter was as follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">The Palace, +Barchester</span>,<br /> +–– December, 186––</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Reverend +Sir</span>,—[he left out the dear, because he knew that +if he inserted it he would be compelled to write the +letter over again]</p> + +<p>I have heard to-day with the greatest trouble of spirit, +that you have been taken before a bench of magistrates +assembled at Silverbridge, having been previously arrested +by the police in your parsonage house at Hogglestock, and +that the magistrates of Silverbridge have committed you to +take your trial at the next assizes at Barchester, on a +charge of theft.</p> + +<p>Far be it from me to prejudge the case. You will +understand, reverend sir, that I express no opinion +whatever as to your guilt or innocence in this matter. If +you have been guilty, may the Lord give you grace to +repent of your great sin and to make such amends as may +come from immediate acknowledgement and confession. If you +are innocent, may He protect you, and make your innocence +shine before all men. In either case may the Lord be with +you and keep your feet from further stumbling.</p> + +<p>But I write to you now as your bishop, to explain to you +that, circumstanced as you are, you cannot with decency +perform the church services of your parish. I have that +confidence in you that I doubt not you will agree with me +in this, and will be grateful to me for relieving you from +the immediate perplexities of your position. I have, +therefore, appointed the Rev Caleb Thumble to perform the +duties of incumbent of Hogglestock till such time as a +jury shall have decided upon your case at Barchester; and +in order that you may at once become acquainted with Mr +Thumble, as will be most convenient that you should do, I +will commission him to deliver this letter into your hand +personally to-morrow, trusting that you will receive him +with that brotherly spirit in which he is sent on this +painful mission.</p> + +<p>Touching the remuneration to which Mr Thumble will become +entitled for his temporary ministrations in the parish of +Hogglestock, I do not at present lay down any strict +injunction. He must, at any rate, be paid at a rate not +less than that ordinarily afforded for a curate.</p> + +<p>I will once again express my fervent hope that the Lord +may bring you to see the true state of your own soul, and +that He may fill you with the grace of repentance, so that +the bitter waters of the present hour may not pass over +your head and destroy you.<a name="fnr1" id="fnr1"></a></p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">I have the honour to +be,</span><br /> +<span class="ind10">Reverend Sir,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12">Your faithful servant in Christ,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">T. +Barnum.</span><a href="#fn1">[1]</a></span><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The bishop had hardly finished his letter when Mrs Proudie returned +to the study, followed by the Rev Caleb Thumble. Mr Thumble was a +little man, about forty years of age, who had a wife and children +living in Barchester, and who existed on such chance clerical crumbs +as might fall from the table of the bishop's patronage. People in +Barchester said that Mrs Thumble was a cousin of Mrs Proudie's; but +as Mrs Proudie stoutly denied the connexion, it may be supposed that +the people of Barchester were wrong. And, had Mr Thumble's wife in +truth been a cousin, Mrs Proudie would surely have provided for him +during the many years in which the diocese had been in her hands. No +such provision had been made, and Mr Thumble, who had now been living +in the diocese for three years, had received nothing else from the +bishop than such chance employment as this which he was about to +undertake at Hogglestock. He was a humble, mild-voiced man, when +within the palace precincts, and had so far succeeded in making his +way among his brethren in the cathedral city as to be employed not +unfrequently for absent minor canons in chanting the week-day +services, being remunerated for his work at the rate of about two +shillings and sixpence a service.</p> + +<p>The bishop handed the letter to his wife, observing in an off-hand +kind of way that she might as well see what he said. "Of course I +shall read it," said Mrs Proudie. And the bishop winced visibly, +because Mr Thumble was present. "Quite right," said Mrs Proudie, +"quite right to let him know that you knew that he had been +arrested,—actually arrested by the police."</p> + +<p>"I thought it proper to mention that, because of the scandal," said +the bishop.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it has been terrible in the city," said Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Mr Thumble," said Mrs Proudie. "Never mind that at +present." Then she continued to read the letter. "What's this? +Confession! That must come out, bishop. It will never do that you +should recommend confession to anybody, under any circumstances."</p> + +<p>"But, my dea—"</p> + +<p>"It must come out, bishop."</p> + +<p>"My lord has not meant auricular confession," suggested Mr Thumble. +Then Mrs Proudie turned round and looked at Mr Thumble, and Mr +Thumble nearly sank amidst the tables and chairs. "I beg your pardon, +Mrs Proudie," he said, "I didn't mean to intrude."</p> + +<p>"The word must come out, bishop," repeated Mrs Proudie. "There should +be no stumbling-blocks prepared for feet that are only too ready to +fall." And the word did come out.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr Thumble," said the lady, as she gave the letter to her +satellite, "the bishop and I wish you to be at Hogglestock early +to-morrow. You should be there not later than ten, certainly." Then +she paused until Mr Thumble had given the required promise. "And we +request that you will be very firm in the mission which is confided +to you, a mission which, as of course, you see, is of a very delicate +and important nature. You must be firm."</p> + +<p>"I will endeavour," said Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"The bishop and I both feel that this most unfortunate man must not +under any circumstances be allowed to perform the services of the +Church while this charge is hanging over him,—a charge as to the +truth of which no sane man can entertain a doubt."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not, Mrs Proudie," said Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"The bishop and I therefore are most anxious that you should make Mr +Crawley understand at once,—at once," and the lady, as she spoke, +lifted up her left hand with an eloquent violence which had its +effect upon Mr Thumble, "that he is inhibited,"—the bishop shook in +his shoes,—"inhibited from the performance of any of his sacred +duties." Thereupon, Mr Thumble promised obedience and went his way.</p> + + +<p><a name="c12" id="c12"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> +<h3>Mr Crawley Seeks for Sympathy<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Matters went very badly indeed in the parsonage house at Hogglestock. +On the Friday morning, the morning of the day after his committal, Mr +Crawley got up very early, long before the daylight, and dressing +himself in the dark, groped his way downstairs. His wife having +vainly striven to persuade him to remain where he was, followed him +into the cold room below with a lighted candle. She found him +standing with his hat on and with his old cloak, as though he were +prepared to go out. "Why do you do this?" she said. "You will make +yourself ill with the cold and the night air; and then you, and I +too, will be worse than we now are."</p> + +<p>"We cannot be worse. You cannot be worse, and for me it does not +signify. Let it pass."</p> + +<p>"I will not let you pass, Josiah. Be a man and bear it. Ask God for +strength, instead of seeking it in an over-indulgence of your own +sorrow."</p> + +<p>"Indulgence!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, love;—indulgence. It is indulgence. You will allow your mind +to dwell on nothing for a moment but your own wrongs."</p> + +<p>"What else have I that I can think of? Is not all the world against +me?"</p> + +<p>"Am I against you?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I think you are. When you accuse me of self-indulgence you +are against me,—me, who for myself have desired nothing but to be +allowed to do my duty, and to have bread enough to keep me alive, and +clothes enough to make me decent."</p> + +<p>"Is it not self-indulgence, this giving way to grief? Who would know +so well as you how to teach the lesson of endurance to others? Come, +love. Lay down your hat. It cannot be fitting that you should go out +into the wet and cold of the raw morning."</p> + +<p>For a moment he hesitated, but as she raised her hand to take his +cloak from him he drew back from her, and would not permit it. "I +shall find those up whom I want to see," he said. "I must visit my +flock, and I dare not go through the parish by daylight lest they +hoot after me as a thief."</p> + +<p>"Not one in Hogglestock would say a word to insult you."</p> + +<p>"Would they not? The very children in the school whisper at me. Let +me pass, I say. It has not yet come to that, that I should be stopped +in my egress and ingress. They have—bailed me; and while their bail +lasts, I may go where I will."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Josiah, what words to me! Have I ever stopped your liberty? +Would I not give my life to secure it?"</p> + +<p>"Let me go, then, now. I tell you that I have business in hand."</p> + +<p>"But I will go with you. I will be ready in an instant."</p> + +<p>"You go! Why should you go? Are there not the children for you to +mind?"</p> + +<p>"There is only Jane."</p> + +<p>"Stay with her, then. Why should you go about the parish?" She still +held him by the cloak, and looked anxiously up into his face. +"Woman," he said, raising his voice, "what is it that you dread? I +command you to tell me what it is you fear?" He had now taken hold of +her by the shoulder, slightly thrusting her from him, so that he +might see her face by the dim light of the single candle. "Speak, I +say. What is it that you think that I shall do?"</p> + +<p>"Dearest, I know that you will be better at home, better with me, +than you can be on such a morning as this out in the cold damp air."</p> + +<p>"And is that all?" He looked hard at her, while she returned his gaze +with beseeching loving eyes. "It there nothing behind, that you will +not tell me?"</p> + +<p>She paused for a moment before she replied. She had never lied to +him. She could not lie to him. "I wish you knew my heart towards +you," she said, "with all and everything in it."</p> + +<p>"I know your heart well, but I want to know your mind. Why would you +persuade me not to go out among my poor?"</p> + +<p>"Because it will be bad for you to be out alone in the dark lanes, in +the mud and wet, thinking of your sorrow. You will brood over it till +you will lose your senses through the intensity of your grief. You +will stand out in the cold air, forgetful of everything around you, +till your limbs will be numbed, and your blood +chilled,<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"And then—?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Josiah, do not hold me like that, and look at me so angrily."</p> + +<p>"And even then I will bear my burden till the Lord in His mercy shall +see fit to relieve me. Even then I will endure, though a bare bodkin +or a leaf of hemlock would put an end to it. Let me pass on; you need +fear nothing."</p> + +<p>She did let him pass without another word, and he went out of the +house, shutting the door after him noiselessly, and closing the +wicket-gate of the garden. For a while she sat herself down on the +nearest chair, and tried to make up her mind how she might best treat +him in his present state of mind. As regarded the present morning her +heart was at ease. She knew that he would do now nothing of that +which she had apprehended. She could trust him not to be false in his +word to her, though she could not before have trusted him not to +commit so much heavier a sin. If he would really employ himself from +morning till night among the poor, he would be better so,—his +trouble would be easier of endurance,—than with any other employment +which he could adopt. What she most dreaded was that he should sit +idle over the fire and do nothing. When he was so seated she could +read his mind, as though it was open to her as a book. She had been +quite right when she had accused him of over-indulgence in his grief. +He did give way to it till it became a luxury to him,—a luxury which +she would not have had the heart to deny him, had she not felt it to +be of all luxuries the most pernicious. During these long hours, in +which he would sit speechless, doing nothing, he was telling himself +from minute to minute that of all God's creatures he was the most +heavily afflicted, and was revelling in the sense of the injustice +done to him. He was recalling all the facts of his life, his +education, which had been costly, and, as regarded knowledge, +successful; his vocation to the Church, when in his youth he had +determined to devote himself to the service of his Saviour, +disregarding promotion or the favour of men; the short, sweet days of +his early love, in which he had devoted himself again,—thinking +nothing of self, but everything of her; his diligent working, in +which he had ever done his very utmost for the parish in which he was +placed, and always his best for the poorest; the success of other men +who had been his compeers, and, as he too often told himself, +intellectually his inferiors; then of his children, who had been +carried off from his love to the churchyard,—over whose graves he +himself had stood, reading out the pathetic words of the funeral +service with unswerving voice and a bleeding heart; and then of his +children still living, who loved their mother so much better than +they loved him. And he would recall the circumstances of his +poverty,—how he had been driven to accept alms, to fly from +creditors, to hide himself, to see his chairs and tables seized +before the eyes of those over whom he had been set as their spiritual +pastor. And in it all, I think, there was nothing so bitter to the +man as the derogation from the spiritual grandeur of his position as +priest among men, which came as one necessary result from his +poverty. St Paul could go forth without money in his purse or shoes +to his feet or two suits to his back, and his poverty never stood in +the way of his preaching, or hindered the veneration of the faithful. +St Paul, indeed, was called upon to bear stripes, was flung into +prison, encountered terrible dangers. But Mr Crawley,—so he told +himself,—could have encountered all that without flinching. The +stripes and scorn of the unfaithful would have been nothing to him, +if only the faithful would have believed in him, poor as he was, as +they would have believed in him had he been rich! Even they whom he +had most loved treated him almost with derision, because he was now +different from them. Dean Arabin had laughed at him because he had +persisted in walking ten miles through the mud instead of being +conveyed in the dean's carriage; and yet, after that, he had been +driven to accept the dean's charity! No one respected him. No one! +His very wife thought that he was a lunatic. And now he had been +publicly branded as a thief; and in all likelihood would end his days +in a gaol! Such were always his thoughts as he sat idle, silent, +moody, over the fire; and his wife knew well their currents. It would +certainly be better that he should drive himself to some employment, +if any employment could be found possible to him.</p> + +<p>When she had been alone for a few minutes, Mrs Crawley got up from +her chair, and going into the kitchen, lighted the fire there, and +put the kettle over it, and began to prepare such breakfast for her +husband as the means in the house afforded. Then she called the +sleeping servant-girl, who was little more than a child, and went +into her own girl's room, and then she got into bed with her +daughter.</p> + +<p>"I have been up with your papa, dear, and I am cold."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, poor mamma! Why is papa up so early?"</p> + +<p>"He has gone out to visit some of the brickmakers, before they go to +their work. It is better for him to be employed."</p> + +<p>"But, mamma, it is pitch dark."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, it is still dark. Sleep again for a while, and I will +sleep too. I think Grace will be here to-night, and then there will +be no room for me here."</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley went forth and made his way with rapid steps to a portion +of his parish nearly two miles distant from his house, through which +was carried a canal, affording water communication in some intricate +way both to London and Bristol. And on the brink of this canal there +had sprung up a colony of brickmakers, the nature of the earth in +those parts combining with the canal to make brickmaking a suitable +trade. The workmen there assembled were not, for the most part, +native-born Hogglestockians, or folk descended from Hogglestockian +parents. They had come thither from unknown regions, as labourers of +that class do come when they are needed. Some young men from that and +neighbouring parishes had joined themselves to the colony, allured by +wages, and disregarding the menaces of the neighbouring farmers; but +they were all in appearance and manners nearer akin to the race of +navvies than to ordinary rural labourers. They had a bad name in the +country; but it may be that their name was worse than their deserts. +The farmers hated them, and consequently they hated the farmers. They +had a beershop, and a grocer's shop, and a huxter's shop for their +own accommodation, and were consequently vilified by the small +old-established tradesmen around them. They got drunk occasionally, +but I doubt whether they drank more than did the farmers themselves +on market-day. They fought among themselves sometimes, but they +forgave each other freely, and seemed to have no objection to black +eyes. I fear that they were not always good to their wives, nor were +their wives always good to them; but it should be remembered that +among the poor, especially when they live in clusters, such +misfortunes cannot be hidden as they may amidst the decent belongings +of more wealthy people. That they worked very hard was certain; and +it was certain also that very few of their number ever came upon the +poor rates. What became of the old brickmakers no one knew. Who ever +sees a worn-out aged navvy?</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley, ever since first coming into Hogglestock, had been very +busy among these brickmakers, and by no means without success. Indeed +the farmers had quarrelled with him because the brickmakers had so +crowded the parish church, as to leave but scant room for decent +people. "Doo they folk pay tithes? That's what I want 'un to tell +me?" argued one farmer,—not altogether unnaturally, believing as he +did that Mr Crawley was paid by tithes out of his own pocket. But Mr +Crawley had done his best to make the brickmakers welcome at the +church, scandalising the farmers by causing them to sit or stand in +any portion of the church which was hitherto unappropriated. He had +been constant in his personal visits to them, and had felt himself to +be more a St Paul with them than with any other of his neighbours +around him.</p> + +<p>It was a cold morning, but the rain of the preceding evening had +given way to frost, and the air, though sharp, was dry. The ground +under the feet was crisp, having felt the wind and frost, and was no +longer clogged with mud. In his present state of mind the walk was +good for our poor pastor, and exhilarated him; but still, as he went, +he thought always of his injuries. His own wife believed that he was +about to commit suicide, and for so believing he was very angry with +her; and yet, as he well knew, the idea of making away with himself +had flitted through his own mind a dozen times. Not from his own wife +could he get real sympathy. He would see what he could do with a +certain brickmaker of his acquaintance.</p> + +<p>"Are you here, Dan?" he said, knocking at the door of a cottage which +stood alone, close to the towing-path of the canal, and close also to +a forlorn corner of the muddy, watery, ugly, disordered brick-field. +It was now just past six o'clock, and the men would be rising, as in +midwinter they commenced their work at seven. The cottage was an +unalluring, straight brick-built tenement, seeming as though intended +to be one of a row which had never progressed beyond Number One. A +voice answered from the interior, inquiring who was the visitor, to +which Mr Crawley replied by giving his name. Then the key was turned +in the lock, and Dan Morris, the brickmaker, appeared with a candle +in his hand. He had been engaged in lighting the fire, with a view to +his own breakfast. "Where is your wife, Dan?" asked Mr Crawley. The +man answered by pointing with a short poker, which he held in his +hand, to the bed, which was half screened from the room by a ragged +curtain, which hung from the ceiling half-way down to the floor. "And +are the Darvels here?" asked Mr Crawley. Then Morris, again using the +poker, pointed upwards, showing that the Darvels were still in their +allotted abode upstairs.</p> + +<p>"You're early out, Muster Crawley," said Morris, and then he went on +with his fire. "Drat the sticks, if they bean't as wet as the old 'un +hisself. Get up, old woman, and do you do it, for I can't. They wun't +kindle for me, nohow." But the old woman, having well noted the +presence of Mr Crawley, thought it better to remain where she was.</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley sat himself down by the obstinate fire, and began to +arrange the sticks. "Dan, Dan," said a voice from the bed, "sure you +wouldn't let his reverence trouble himself with the fire."</p> + +<p>"How be I to keep him from it, if he chooses? I didn't ax him." Then +Morris stood by and watched, and after a while Mr Crawley succeeded +in his attempt.</p> + +<p>"How could it burn when you had not given the small spark a current +of air to help it?" said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"In course not," said the woman, "but he be such a stupid."</p> + +<p>The husband said no word in acknowledgement of this compliment, nor +did he thank Mr Crawley for what he had done, nor appear as though he +intended to take any notice of him. He was going on with his work +when Mr Crawley again interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"How did you get back from Silverbridge yesterday, Dan?"</p> + +<p>"Footed it,—all the blessed way."</p> + +<p>"It's only eight miles."</p> + +<p>"And I footed it there, and that's sixteen. And I paid +one-and-sixpence for beer and grub;—s'help me I did."</p> + +<p>"Dan!" said a voice from the bed, rebuking him for the impropriety of +his language.</p> + +<p>"Well; I beg pardon, but I did. And they guv' me two bob;—just two +plain shillings, by <span class="nowrap">––––"</span></p> + +<p>"Dan!"</p> + +<p>"And I'd 've arned three-and-six here at brickmaking easy; that's +what I wuld. How's a poor man to live that way? They'll not cotch me +at Barchester 'Sizes at that price; they may be sure of that. Look +there,—that's what I've got for my day." And he put his hand into +his breeches-pocket and fetched out a sixpence. "How's a man to fill +his belly out of that. Damnation!"</p> + +<p>"Dan!"</p> + +<p>"Well, what did I say? Hold your jaw, will you, and not be halloaing +at me that way? I know what I'm a saying of, and what I'm a doing +of."</p> + +<p>"I wish they'd given you something more with all my heart," said +Crawley.</p> + +<p>"We knows that," cried the woman from the bed. "We is sure of that, +your reverence."</p> + +<p>"Sixpence!" said the man, scornfully. "If they'd have guv' me nothing +at all but the run of my teeth at the public-house, I'd 've taken it +better. But sixpence!"</p> + +<p>Then there was a pause. "And what have they given to me?" said Mr +Crawley, when the man's ill-humour about his sixpence had so far +subsided as to allow of his busying himself again about the premises.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed;—yes, indeed," said the woman. "Yes, yes, we feel that; +we do indeed, Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"I tell you what, sir; for another sixpence I'd 've sworn you'd never +guv' me the paper at all; and so I will now, if it bean't too +late;—sixpence or no sixpence. What do I care? +<span class="nowrap">d––––</span> them."</p> + +<p>"Dan!"</p> + +<p>"And why shouldn't I? They hain't got brains enough among them to +winny the truth from the lies,—not among the lot of 'em. I'll swear +afore the judge that you didn't give it me at all, if that'll do any +good."</p> + +<p>"Man, do you think I would have you perjure yourself, even if that +would do me a service? And do you think that any man was ever served +by a lie?"</p> + +<p>"Faix, among them chaps it don't do to tell them too much of the +truth. Look at that!" And he brought out the sixpence again from his +breeches-pocket. "And look at your reverence. Only that they've let +you out for a while, they've been nigh as hard on you as though you +were one of us."</p> + +<p>"If they think that I stole it, they have been right," said Mr +Crawley.</p> + +<p>"It's been along of that chap, Soames," said the woman. "The lord +would 've paid the money out of his own pocket and never said not a +word."</p> + +<p>"If they think that I've been a thief, they've done right," repeated +Mr Crawley. "But how can they think so? How can they think so? Have I +lived like a thief among them?"</p> + +<p>"For the matter o' that, if a man ain't paid for his work by them as +is his employers, he must pay hisself. Them's my notions. Look at +that!" Whereupon he again pulled out the sixpence, and held it forth +in the palm of his hand.</p> + +<p>"You believe, then," said Mr Crawley, speaking very slowly, "that I +did steal the money. Speak out, Dan; I shall not be angry. As you go +you are honest men, and I want to know what such as you think about +it."</p> + +<p>"He don't think nothing of the kind," said the woman, almost getting +out of bed in her energy. "If he'd athought the like o' that in his +head, I'd read 'un such a lesson he'd never think again the longest +day he had to live."</p> + +<p>"Speak out, Dan," said the clergyman, not attending to the woman. +"You can understand that no good can come of a lie." Dan Morris +scratched his head. "Speak out, man, when I tell you," said Crawley.</p> + +<p>"Drat it all," said Dan, "where's the use of so much jaw about it?"</p> + +<p>"Say you know his reverence is as innocent as the babe as isn't +born," said the woman.</p> + +<p>"No; I won't—say anything of the kind," said Dan.</p> + +<p>"Speak out the truth," said Crawley.</p> + +<p>"They do say, among 'em," said Dan, "that you picked it up, and then +got woolgathering in your head till you didn't rightly know where it +come from." Then he paused. "And after a bit you guv' it me to get +the money. Didn't you, now?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"And they do say if a poor man had done it, it'd been stealing, for +sartin."</p> + +<p>"And I'm a poor man,—the poorest in all Hogglestock; and, therefore, +of course, it is stealing. Of course I am a thief. Yes; of course I +am a thief. When did not the world believe the worst of the poor?" +Having so spoken, Mr Crawley rose from his chair and hurried out of +the cottage, waiting no further reply from Dan Morris or his wife. +And as he made his way slowly home, not going there by the direct +road, but by a long circuit, he told himself there could be no +sympathy for him anywhere. Even Dan Morris, the brickmaker, thought +that he was a thief.</p> + +<p>"And am I a thief?" he said to himself, standing in the middle of the +road, with his hands up to his forehead.</p> + + +<p><a name="c13" id="c13"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> +<h3>The Bishop's Angel<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was nearly nine before Mr Crawley got back to his house, and found +his wife and daughter waiting breakfast for him. "I should not wonder +if Grace were over here to-day," said Mrs Crawley. "She'd better +remain where she is," said he. After this the meal passed almost +without a word. When it was over, Jane, at a sign from her mother, +went up to her father and asked him whether she should read with him. +"Not now," he said, "not just now. I must rest my brain before it +will be fit for any work." Then he got into the chair over the fire, +and his wife began to fear that he would remain there all the day.</p> + +<p>But the morning was not far advanced, when there came a visitor who +disturbed him, and by disturbing him did him real service. Just at +ten there arrived at the little gate before the house a man on a +pony, whom Jane espied, standing there by the pony's head and looking +about for some one to relieve him from the charge of his steed. This +was Mr Thumble, who had ridden over to Hogglestock on a poor spavined +brute belonging to the bishop's stable, and which had once been the +bishop's cob. Now it was the vehicle by which Mrs Proudie's episcopal +messages were sent backwards and forwards through a twelve-miles ride +round Barchester; and so many were the lady's requirements, that the +poor animal by no means eat the hay of idleness. Mr Thumble had +suggested to Mrs Proudie, after their interview with the bishop and +the giving up of the letter to the clerical messenger's charge, that +before hiring a gig from the Dragon of Wantly, he should be glad to +know,—looking as he always did to "Mary Anne and the +children",—whence the price of the gig was to be returned to him. +Mrs Proudie had frowned at him,—not with all the austerity of +frowning which she could use when really angered, but simply with a +frown which gave her some little time for thought, and would enable +her to continue to rebuke if, after thinking, she should find that +rebuke was needed. But mature consideration showed her that Mr +Thumble's caution was not without reason. Were the bishop +energetic,—or even the bishop's managing chaplain as energetic as he +should be, Mr Crawley might, as Mrs Proudie felt assured, be made in +some way to pay for a conveyance for Mr Thumble. But the energy was +lacking, and the price of the gig, if the gig were ordered, would +certainly fall ultimately on the bishop's shoulders. This was very +sad. Mrs Proudie had often grieved over the necessary expenditure of +episcopal surveillance, and had been heard to declare her opinion +that a liberal allowance for secret service should be made in every +diocese. What better could the Ecclesiastical Commissioners do with +all those rich revenues which they had stolen from the bishops? But +there was no such liberal allowance at present, and, therefore, Mrs +Proudie, after having frowned at Mr Thumble for some seconds, desired +him to take the grey cob. Now, Mr Thumble had ridden the grey cob +before, and would much have preferred a gig. But even the grey cob +was better than a gig at his own cost.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, there's a man at the gate wanting to come in," said Jane. "I +think he's a clergyman."</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley immediately raised his head, though he did not at once +leave his chair. Mrs Crawley went to the window, and recognised the +reverend visitor. "My dear, it is that Mr Thumble, who is so much +with the bishop."</p> + +<p>"What does Mr Thumble want with me."</p> + +<p>"Nay, my dear; he will tell you that himself." But Mrs Crawley, +though she answered him with a voice intended to be cheerful, greatly +feared the coming of this messenger from the palace. She perceived at +once that the bishop was about to interfere with her husband in +consequence of that which the magistrates had done yesterday.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, he doesn't know what to do with his pony," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"Tell him to tie it to the rail," said Mr Crawley. "If he has +expected to find menials here, as he has them at the palace, he will +be wrong. If he wants to come in here, let him tie the beast to the +rail." So Jane went out and sent a message to Mr Thumble by the girl, +and Mr Thumble did tie the pony to the rail, and followed the girl +into the house. Jane in the meantime had retired out by the back door +to the school, but Mrs Crawley kept her ground. She kept her ground +although she believed almost that her husband would prefer to have +the field to himself. As Mr Thumble did not at once enter the room, +Mr Crawley stalked to the door, and stood with it open in his hand. +Though he knew Mr Thumble's person, he was not acquainted with him, +and therefore he simply bowed to the visitor, bowing more than once +or twice with a cold courtesy, which did not put Mr Thumble +altogether at his ease. "My name is Mr Thumble," said the +visitor,—"the Reverend Caleb Thumble," and he held the bishop's +letter in his hand. Mr Crawley seemed to take no notice of the +letter, but motioned Mr Thumble with his hand into the room.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have come from Barchester this morning?" said Mrs +Crawley.</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam,—from the palace." Mr Thumble, though a humble man in +positions in which he felt that humility would become him,—a humble +man to his betters, as he himself would have expressed it,—had still +about him something of that pride which naturally belonged to those +clergymen who were closely attached to the palace at Barchester. Had +he been sent on a message to Plumstead,—could any such message from +Barchester palace have been possible,—he would have been properly +humble in his demeanour to the archdeacon, or to Mrs Grantly had he +been admitted to the august presence of that lady; but he was aware +that humility would not become him on his present mission; he had +been expressly ordered to be firm by Mrs Proudie, and firm he meant +to be; and therefore, in communicating to Mrs Crawley the fact that +he had come from the palace, he did load the tone of his voice with +something of the dignity which Mr Crawley might perhaps be excused +for regarding as arrogance.</p> + +<p>"And what does the 'palace' want with me?" said Mr Crawley. Mrs +Crawley knew at once that there was to be a battle. Nay, the battle +had begun. Nor was she altogether sorry; for though she could not +trust her husband to sit alone all day in his arm-chair over the +fire, she could trust him to carry on a disputation with any other +clergyman on any subject whatever. "What does the palace want with +me?" And as Mr Crawley asked the question he stood erect, and looked +Mr Thumble full in the face. Mr Thumble called to mind the fact, that +Mr Crawley was a very poor man indeed,—so poor that he owed money +all round the country to butchers and bakers, and the other fact, +that he, Mr Thumble himself, did not owe any money to any one, his +wife luckily having a little income of her own; and, strengthened by +these remembrances, he endeavoured to bear Mr Crawley's attack with +gallantry.</p> + +<p>"Of course, Mr Crawley, you are aware that this unfortunate affair at +Silverbridge<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I am not prepared, sir, to discuss the unfortunate affair at +Silverbridge with a stranger. If you are the bearer of any message to +me from the Bishop of Barchester, perhaps you will deliver it."</p> + +<p>"I have brought a letter," said Mr Thumble. Then Mr Crawley stretched +out his hand without a word, and taking the letter with him to the +window, read it very slowly. When he had made himself master of its +contents, he refolded the letter, placed it again in the envelope, +and returned to the spot where Mr Thumble was standing. "I will +answer the bishop's letter," he said; "I will answer it of course, as +it is fitting that I should do so. Shall I ask you to wait for my +reply, or shall I send it by course of post?"</p> + +<p>"I think, Mr Crawley, as the bishop wishes me to undertake the +duty<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"You will not undertake the duty, Mr Thumble. You need not trouble +yourself, for I shall not surrender my pulpit to you."</p> + +<p>"But the bishop—"</p> + +<p>"I care nothing for the bishop in this matter." So much he spoke in +anger, and then he corrected himself. "I crave the bishop's pardon, +and yours as his messenger, if in the heat occasioned by my strong +feelings I have said aught which may savour of irreverence towards +his lordship's office. I respect his lordship's high position as +bishop of this diocese, and I bow to his commands in all things +lawful. But I must not bow to him in things unlawful, nor must I +abandon my duty before God at his bidding, unless his bidding be +given in accordance with the canons of the Church and the laws of the +land. It will be my duty, on the Sunday, to lead the prayers of my +people in the church of my parish, and to preach to them from my +pulpit; and that duty, with God's assistance, I will perform. Nor +will I allow any clergyman to interfere with me in the performance of +those sacred offices,—no, not though the bishop himself should be +present with the object of enforcing his illegal command." Mr Crawley +spoke these words without hesitation, even with eloquence, standing +upright, and with something of a noble anger gleaming over his poor +wan face; and, I think, that while speaking them, he was happier than +he had been for many a long day.</p> + +<p>Mr Thumble listened to him patiently, standing with one foot a little +in advance of the other, with one hand folded over the other, with +his head rather on one side, and with his eyes fixed on the corner +where the wall and ceiling joined each other. He had been told to be +firm, and he was considering how he might best display firmness. He +thought that he remembered some story of two parsons fighting for one +pulpit, and he thought also that he should not himself like to incur +the scandal of such a proceeding in the diocese. As to the law in the +matter he knew nothing himself; but he presumed that a bishop would +probably know the law better than a perpetual curate. That Mrs +Proudie was intemperate and imperious, he was aware. Had the message +come from her alone, he might have felt that even for her sake he had +better give way. But as the despotic arrogance of the lady had been +in this case backed by the timid presence and hesitating words of her +lord, Mr Thumble thought that he must have the law on his side. "I +think you will find, Mr Crawley," said he, "that the bishop's +inhibition is strictly legal." He had picked up the powerful word +from Mrs Proudie and flattered himself that it might be of use to him +in carrying his purpose.</p> + +<p>"It is illegal," said Mr Crawley, speaking somewhat louder than +before, "and will be absolutely futile. As you pleaded to me that you +yourself and your own personal convenience were concerned in this +matter, I have made known my intentions to you, which otherwise I +should have made known only to the bishop. If you please, we will +discuss the subject no further."</p> + +<p>"Am I to understand, Mr Crawley, that you refuse to obey the bishop?"</p> + +<p>"The bishop has written to me, sir; and I will make known my +intention to the bishop by written answer. As you have been the +bearer of the bishop's letter to me, I am bound to ask you whether I +shall be indebted to you for carrying back my reply, or whether I +shall send it by course of post?" Mr Thumble considered for a moment, +and then made up his mind that he had better wait, and carry back the +epistle. This was Friday, and the letter could not be delivered by +post till the Saturday morning. Mrs Proudie might be angry with him +if he should be the cause of loss of time. He did not, however, at +all like waiting, having perceived that Mr Crawley, though with +language courteously worded, had spoken of him as a mere messenger.</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, "that I may, perhaps, best further the object +which we must all have in view, that namely of providing properly for +the Sunday services of the church of Hogglestock, by taking your +reply personally to the bishop."</p> + +<p>"That provision is my care and need trouble no one else," said Mr +Crawley, in a loud voice. Then, before seating himself at his old +desk, he stood awhile, pondering, with his back turned to his +visitor. "I have to ask your pardon, sir," said he, looking round for +a moment, "because, by reason of the extreme poverty of this house, +my wife is unable to offer to you that hospitality which is +especially due from one clergyman to another."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't mention it," said Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"If you will allow me, sir, I would prefer that it should be +mentioned." Then he seated himself, and commenced his letter.</p> + +<p>Mr Thumble felt himself to be awkwardly placed. Had there been no +third person in the room he could have sat down in Mr Crawley's +arm-chair, and waited patiently till the letter should be finished. +But Mrs Crawley was there, and of course he was bound to speak to +her. In what strain should he do so? Even he, little as he was given +to indulge in sentiment, had been touched by the man's appeal to his +own poverty, and he felt, moreover, that Mrs Crawley must have been +deeply moved by her husband's position with reference to the bishop's +order. It was quite out of the question that he should speak of that, +as Mr Crawley would, he was well aware, immediately turn upon him. At +last he thought of a subject, and spoke with a voice intended to be +pleasant. "That was the school-house I passed, probably, just as I +came here?" Mrs Crawley told him that it was the school-house. "Ah, +yes, I thought so. Have you a certified teacher here?" Mrs Crawley +explained that no Government aid had ever reached Hogglestock. +Besides themselves, they had only a young woman whom they themselves +had instructed. "Ah, that is a pity," said Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"I,—I am the certified teacher," said Mr Crawley, turning round upon +him from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ah, yes," said Mr Thumble; and after that Mr Thumble asked no +more questions about the Hogglestock school. Soon afterwards Mrs +Crawley left the room, seeing the difficulty under which Mr Thumble +was labouring, and feeling sure that her presence would not now be +necessary. Mr Crawley's letter was written quickly, though every now +and then he would sit for a moment with his pen poised in the air, +searching his memory for a word. But the words came to him easily, +and before an hour was over he had handed his letter to Mr Thumble. +The letter was as follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">The Parsonage, +Hogglestock</span>,<br /> +–– December, 186––</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Right Reverend +Lord</span>,</p> + +<p>I have received the letter of yesterday's date which your +lordship has done me the honour of sending to me by the +hands of the Reverend Mr Thumble, and I avail myself of +that gentleman's kindness to return to you an answer by +the same means, moved thus to use his patience chiefly by +the consideration that in this way my reply to your +lordship's injunctions may be in your hands with less +delay than would attend the regular course of the +mail-post.</p> + +<p>It is with deep regret that I feel myself constrained to +inform your lordship that I cannot obey the command which +you have laid upon me with reference to the services of my +church in this parish. I cannot permit Mr Thumble, or any +other delegate from your lordship, to usurp my place in my +pulpit. I would not have you think, if I can possibly +dispel such thoughts from your mind, that I disregard your +high office, or that I am deficient in that respectful +obedience to the bishop set over me, which is due to the +authority of the Crown as the head of the church in these +realms; but in this, as in all questions of obedience, he +who is required to obey must examine the extent of the +authority exercised by him who demands obedience. Your +lordship might possibly call upon me, using your voice as +bishop of the diocese, to abandon altogether the freehold +rights which are now mine in this perpetual curacy. The +judge of assize, before whom I shall soon stand for my +trial, might command me to retire to prison without a +verdict given by a jury. The magistrates who committed me +so lately as yesterday, upon whose decision in that +respect your lordship has taken action against me so +quickly, might have equally strained their authority. But +in no case, in this land, is he that is subject bound to +obey, further than where the law gives authority and +exacts obedience. It is not in the power of the Crown +itself to inhibit me from the performance of my ordinary +duties in this parish by any such missive as that sent to +me by your lordship. If your lordship think right to stop +my mouth as a clergyman in your diocese, you must proceed +to do so in an ecclesiastical court in accordance with the +laws, and will succeed in your object, or fail, in +accordance with the evidences as to the ministerial +fitness or unfitness which may be produced respecting me +before the proper tribunal.</p> + +<p>I will allow that much attention is due from a clergyman +to pastoral advice given to him by his bishop. On that +head I must first express to your lordship my full +understanding that your letter has not been intended to +convey advice, but an order;—an inhibition, as your +messenger, the Reverend Mr Thumble, has expressed it. +There might be a case certainly in which I should submit +myself to counsel, though I should resist command. No +counsel, however, has been given,—except indeed that I +should receive your messenger in a proper spirit, which I +hope I have done. No other advice has been given me, and +therefore there is now no such case as that I have +imagined. But in this matter, my lord, I could not have +accepted advice from living man, no, not though the hands +of the apostles themselves had made him bishop who +tendered it to me, and had set him over me for my +guidance. I am in a terrible strait. Trouble, and sorrow, +and danger are upon me and mine. It may well be, as your +lordship says, that the bitter waters of the present hour +may pass over my head and destroy me. I thank your +lordship for telling me whither I am to look for +assistance. Truly I know not whether there is any to be +found for me on earth. But the deeper my troubles, the +greater my sorrow, the more pressing any danger, the +stronger is my need that I should carry myself in these +days with that outward respect of self which will teach +those around me to know that, let who will condemn me, I +have not condemned myself. Were I to abandon my pulpit, +unless forced to do so by legal means, I should in doing +so be putting a plea of guilty against myself upon the +record. This, my lord, I will not do.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">I have the honour +to be, my lord,</span><br /> +<span class="ind10">Your lordship's most obedient servant,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Josiah +Crawley</span>.</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>When he had finished writing his letter he read it over slowly, and +then handed it to Mr Thumble. The act of writing, and the current of +the thoughts through his brain, and the feeling that in every word +written he was getting the better of the bishop,—all this joined to +a certain manly delight in warfare against authority, lighted up the +man's face and gave to his eyes an expression which had been long +wanting to them. His wife at that moment came into the room and he +looked at her with an air of triumph as he handed the letter to Mr +Thumble. "If you will give that to his lordship with an assurance of +my duty to his lordship in all things proper, I will thank you +kindly, craving your pardon for the great delay to which you have +been subjected."</p> + +<p>"As to the delay, that is nothing," said Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"It has been much; but you as a clergyman will feel that it has been +incumbent upon me to speak my mind fully."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; of course." Mr Crawley was standing up, as also was Mrs +Crawley. It was evident to Mr Thumble that they both expected that he +should go. But he had been specially enjoined to be firm, and he +doubted whether hitherto he had been firm enough. As far as this +morning's work had as yet gone, it seemed to him that Mr Crawley had +had the play to himself, and that he, Mr Thumble, had not had his +innings. He, from the palace, had been, as it were, cowed by this +man, who had been forced to plead his own poverty. It was certainly +incumbent upon him, before he went, to speak up, not only for the +bishop, but for himself also. "Mr Crawley," he said, "hitherto I have +listened to you patiently."</p> + +<p>"Nay," said Mr Crawley, smiling, "you have indeed been patient, and I +thank you; but my words have been written, not spoken."</p> + +<p>"You have told me that you intend to disobey the bishop's +inhibition."</p> + +<p>"I have told the bishop so, certainly."</p> + +<p>"May I ask you now to listen to me for a few minutes?"</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley, still smiling, still having in his eyes the unwonted +triumph which had lighted them up, paused a moment, and then answered +him. "Reverend sir, you must excuse me if I say no,—not on this +subject."</p> + +<p>"You will not let me speak?"</p> + +<p>"No; not on this matter, which is very private to me. What should you +think if I went into your house and inquired of you as to those +things which were particularly near to you?"</p> + +<p>"But the bishop sent me."</p> + +<p>"Though ten bishops had sent me,—a council of archbishops if you +will!" Mr Thumble started back, appalled at the energy of the words +used to him. "Shall a man have nothing of his own;—no sorrow in his +heart, no care in his family, no thought in his breast so private and +special to him, but that, if he happen to be a clergyman, the bishop +may touch it with his thumb?"</p> + +<p>"I am not the bishop's thumb," said Mr Thumble, drawing himself up.</p> + +<p>"I intended not to hint anything personally objectionable to +yourself. I will regard you as one of the angels of the church." Mr +Thumble, when he heard this, began to be sure that Mr Crawley was +mad; he knew of no angels that could ride about the Barsetshire lanes +on grey ponies. "And as such I will respect you; but I cannot discuss +with you the matter of the bishop's message."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well. I will tell his lordship."</p> + +<p>"I will pray you to do so."</p> + +<p>"And his lordship, should he so decide, will arm me with such power +on my next coming as will enable me to carry out his lordship's +wishes."</p> + +<p>"His lordship will abide by the law, as will you also." In speaking +these last words he stood with the door in his hand, and Mr Thumble, +not knowing how to increase or even to maintain his firmness, thought +it best to pass out, and mount his pony and ride away.</p> + +<p>"The poor man thought that you were laughing at him when you called +him an angel of the church," said Mrs Crawley, coming up to him and +smiling on him.</p> + +<p>"Had I told him he was simply a messenger, he would have taken it +worse;—poor fool! When they have rid themselves of me they may put +him here, in my church; but not yet,—not yet. Where is Jane? Tell +her that I am ready to commence the Seven against Thebes with her." +Then Jane was immediately sent for out of the school, and the Seven +against Thebes was commenced with great energy. Often during the next +hour and a half Mrs Crawley from the kitchen would hear him reading +out, or rather saying by rote, with sonorous, rolling voice, great +passages from some chorus, and she was very thankful to the bishop +who had sent over to them a message and a messenger which had been so +salutary in their effect upon her husband. "In truth an angel of the +church," she said to herself as she chopped up the onions for the +mutton-broth; and ever afterwards she regarded Mr Thumble as an +"angel".</p> + + +<p><a name="c14" id="c14"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3> +<h3>Major Grantly Consults a Friend<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Grace Crawley passed through Silverbridge on her way to Allington on +the Monday, and on the Tuesday morning Major Grantly received a very +short note from Miss Prettyman, telling him that she had done so. +"Dear Sir,—I think you will be very glad to learn that our friend +Miss Crawley went from us yesterday on a visit to her friend, Miss +Dale, at Allington.—Yours truly, Annabella Prettyman." The note said +no more than that. Major Grantly was glad to get it, obtaining from +it the satisfaction which a man always feels when he is presumed to +be concerned in the affairs of the lady with whom he is in love. And +he regarded Miss Prettyman with favourable eyes,—as a discreet and +friendly woman. Nevertheless, he was not altogether happy. The very +fact that Miss Prettyman should write to him on such a subject made +him feel that he was bound to Grace Crawley. He knew enough of +himself to be sure that he could not give her up without making +himself miserable. And yet, as regarded her father, things were going +from bad to worse. Everybody now said that the evidence was so strong +against Mr Crawley as to leave hardly a doubt of his guilt. Even the +ladies in Silverbridge were beginning to give up his cause, +acknowledging that the money could not have come rightfully into his +hands, and excusing him on the plea of partial insanity. "He has +picked it up and put it by for months, and then thought that it was +his own." The ladies at Silverbridge could find nothing better to say +for him than that; and when young Mr Walker remarked that such little +mistakes were the customary causes of men being taken to prison, the +ladies of Silverbridge did not know how to answer him. It had come to +be their opinion that Mr Crawley was affected with a partial lunacy, +which ought to be forgiven in one to whom the world had been so +cruel; and when young Mr Walker endeavoured to explain to them that a +man must be sane altogether or mad altogether, and that Mr Crawley +must, if sane, be locked up as a thief, and if mad, locked up as a +madman, they sighed, and were convinced that until the world should +have been improved by a new infusion of romance, and a stronger +feeling of poetic justice, that Mr John Walker was right.</p> + +<p>And the result of this general opinion made its way out to Major +Grantly, and made its way, also, to the archdeacon at Plumstead. As +to the major, in giving him his due, it must be explained that the +more certain he became of the father's guilt, the more certain also +he became of the daughter's merits. It was very hard. The whole thing +was cruelly hard. It was cruelly hard upon him that he should be +brought into this trouble, and be forced to take upon himself the +armour of a knight-errant for the redress of the wrong on the part of +the young lady. But when alone in his house, or with his child, he +declared to himself that he would do so. It might well be that he +could not live in Barsetshire after he had married Mr Crawley's +daughter. He had inherited from his father enough of that longing for +ascendancy among those around him to make him feel that in such +circumstances he would be wretched. But he would be made more +wretched by the self-knowledge that he had behaved badly to the girl +he loved; and the world beyond Barsetshire was open to him. He would +take her with him to Canada, to New Zealand, or to some other faraway +country, and there begin his life again. Should his father choose to +punish him for so doing by disinheriting him, they would be poor +enough; but, in his present frame of mind, the major was able to +regard such poverty as honourable and not altogether disagreeable.</p> + +<p>He had been out shooting all day at Chaldicotes, with Dr Thorne and a +party who were staying in the house there, and had been talking about +Mr Crawley, first with one man and then with another. Lord Lufton had +been there, and young Gresham from Greshamsbury, and Mr Robarts, the +clergyman, and news had come among them of the attempt made by the +bishop to stop Mr Crawley from preaching. Mr Robarts had been of +opinion that Mr Crawley should have given way; and Lord Lufton, who +shared his mother's intense dislike of everything that came from the +palace, had sworn that he was right to resist. The sympathy of the +whole party had been with Mr Crawley; but they had all agreed that he +had stolen the money.</p> + +<p>"I fear he'll have to give way to the bishop at last," Lord Lufton +had said.</p> + +<p>"And what on earth will become of his children," said the doctor. +"Think of the fate of that pretty girl; for she is a very pretty +girl. It will be the ruin of her. No man will allow himself to fall +in love with her when her father shall have been found guilty of +stealing a cheque for twenty pounds."</p> + +<p>"We must do something for the whole family," said the lord. "I say, +Thorne, you haven't half the game here that there used to be in poor +old Sowerby's time."</p> + +<p>"Haven't I?" said the doctor. "You see, Sowerby had been at it all +his days, and never did anything else. I only began late in life."</p> + +<p>The major had intended to stay and dine at Chaldicotes, but when he +heard what was said about Grace, his heart became sad, and he made +some excuse as to his child, and returned home. Dr Thorne had +declared that no man could allow himself to fall in love with her. +But what if a man had fallen in love with her beforehand? What if a +man had not only fallen in love, but spoken of his love? Had he been +alone with the doctor, he would, I think, have told him the whole of +his trouble; for in all the county there was no man whom he would +sooner have trusted with his secret. This Dr Thorne was known far and +wide for his soft heart, his open hand, and his well-sustained +indifference to the world's opinions on most of those social matters +with which the world meddles; and therefore the words which he had +spoken had more weight with Major Grantly than they would have had +from other lips. As he drove home he almost made up his mind that he +would consult Dr Thorne upon the matter. There were many younger men +with whom he was very intimate,—Frank Gresham, for instance, and +Lord Lufton himself; but this was an affair which he hardly knew how +to discuss with a young man. To Dr Thorne he thought that he could +bring himself to tell the whole story.</p> + +<p>In the evening there came to him a messenger from Plumstead, with a +letter from his father and some present for the child. He knew at +once that the present had been thus sent as an excuse for the letter. +His father might have written by the post, of course; but that would +have given to his letter a certain air and tone which he had not +wished it to bear. After some message from the major's mother, and +some allusion to Edith, the archdeacon struck off upon the matter +that was near his heart.</p> + +<p>"I fear it is all up with that unfortunate man at Hogglestock," he +said. "From what I hear of the evidence which came out before the +magistrates, there can, I think, be no doubt as to his guilt. Have +you heard that the bishop sent over on the following day to stop him +from preaching? He did so, and sent again on the Sunday. But Crawley +would not give way, and so far I respect the man; for, as a matter of +course, whatever the bishop did, or attempted to do, he would do with +an extreme of bad taste, probably with gross ignorance as to his own +duty and as to the duty of the man under him. I am told that on the +first day Crawley turned out of his house the messenger sent to +him,—some stray clergyman whom Mrs Proudie keeps about the house; +and that on Sunday the stairs to the reading-desk and pulpit were +occupied by a lot of brickmakers, among whom the parson from +Barchester did not venture to attempt to make his way, although he +was fortified by the presence of one of the cathedral vergers and by +one of the palace footmen. I can hardly believe about the verger and +the footman. As for the rest, I have no doubt it is all true. I pity +Crawley from my heart. Poor, unfortunate man! The general opinion +seems to be that he is not in truth responsible for what he does. As +for his victory over the bishop, nothing on earth could be better.</p> + +<p>"Your mother particularly wishes you to come over to us before the +end of the week, and to bring Edith. Your grandfather will be here, +and he is becoming so infirm that he will never come to us for +another Christmas. Of course you will stay over the new year."</p> + +<p>Though the letter was full of Mr Crawley and his affairs there was +not a word in it about Grace. This, however, was quite natural. Major +Grantly perfectly well understood his father's anxiety to carry his +point without seeming to allude to the disagreeable subject. "My +father is very clever," he said to himself, "very clever. But he +isn't so clever but one can see how clever he is."</p> + +<p>On the next day he went into Silverbridge, intending to call on Miss +Prettyman. He had not quite made up his mind what he would say to +Miss Prettyman; nor was he called upon to do so, as he never got as +far as that lady's house. While walking up the High street he saw Mrs +Thorne in her carriage, and, as a matter of course, he stopped to +speak to her. He knew Mrs Thorne quite as intimately as he did her +husband, and liked her quite as well. "Major Grantly," she said, +speaking out loud to him, half across the street; "I was very angry +with you yesterday. Why did you not come up to dinner? We had a room +ready for you and everything."</p> + +<p>"I was not quite well, Mrs Thorne."</p> + +<p>"Fiddlestick. Don't tell me of not being well. There was Emily +breaking her heart about you."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure Miss Dunstable—"</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth, I think she'll get over it. It won't be +mortal with her. But do tell me, Major Grantly, what are we to think +about this poor Mr Crawley? It was so good of you to be one of his +bailsmen."</p> + +<p>"He would have found twenty in Silverbridge, if he had wanted them."</p> + +<p>"And do you hear that he has defied the bishop? I do so like him for +that. Not but what poor Mrs Proudie is the dearest friend I have in +the world, and I'm always fighting a battle with old Lady Lufton on +her behalf. But one likes to see one's friends worsted sometimes, you +know."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand what did happen at Hogglestock on the +Sunday," said the major.</p> + +<p>"Some say he had the bishop's chaplain put under the pump. I don't +believe that; but there is no doubt that when the poor fellow tried +to get into the pulpit, they took him and carried him neck and heels +out of the church. But, tell me, Major Grantly, what is to become of +the family?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows!"</p> + +<p>"Is it not sad? And that eldest girl is so nice! They tell me that +she is perfect,—not only in beauty, but in manners and +accomplishments. Everybody says that she talks Greek just as well as +she does English, and that she understands philosophy from the top to +the bottom."</p> + +<p>"At any rate, she is so good and so lovely that one cannot but pity +her now," said the major.</p> + +<p>"You know her, then, Major Grantly? By-the-by, of course you do, as +you were staying with her at Framley."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know her."</p> + +<p>"What is to become of her? I'm going your way. You might as well get +into the carriage, and I'll drive you home. If he is sent to +prison,—and they say he must be sent to prison,—what is to become +of them?" Then Major Grantly did get into the carriage, and, before +he got out again, he had told Mrs Thorne the whole story of his love.</p> + +<p>She listened to him with the closest attention; only interrupting him +now and then with little words, intended to signify her approval. He, +as he told his tale, did not look her in the face, but sat with his +eyes fixed upon her muff. "And now," he said, glancing up at her +almost for the first time as he finished his speech, "and now, Mrs +Thorne, what am I to do?"</p> + +<p>"Marry her, of course," said she, raising her hand aloft and bringing +it down heavily upon his knee as she gave her decisive reply.</p> + +<p>"H—sh—h," he exclaimed, looking back in dismay towards the +servants.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they never hear anything up there. They're thinking about the +last pot of porter they had, or the next they're to get. Deary me, I +am so glad! Of course you'll marry her."</p> + +<p>"You forget my father."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. What has a father to do with it? You're old enough to +please yourself without asking your father. Besides, Lord bless me, +the archdeacon isn't the man to bear malice. He'll storm and threaten +and stop the supplies for a month or so. Then he'll double them, and +take your wife to his bosom, and kiss and bless her, and all that +kind of thing. We all know what parental wrath means in such cases as +that."</p> + +<p>"But my sister—"</p> + +<p>"As for your sister, don't talk to me about her. I don't care two +straws about your sister. You must excuse me, Major Grantly, but Lady +Hartletop is really too big for my powers of vision."</p> + +<p>"And Edith,—of course, Mrs Thorne, I can't be blind to the fact that +in many ways such a marriage would be injurious to her. No man wishes +to be connected with a convicted thief."</p> + +<p>"No, Major Grantly; but a man does wish to marry the girl that he +loves. At least, I suppose so. And what man ever was able to give a +more touching proof of his affection than you can do now? If I were +you, I'd be at Allington before twelve o'clock to-morrow,—I would +indeed. What does it matter about the trumpery cheque? Everybody +knows it was a mistake, if he did take it. And surely you would not +punish her for that?"</p> + +<p>"No,—no; but I don't suppose she'd think it a punishment."</p> + +<p>"You go and ask her then. And I'll tell you what. If she hasn't a +house of her own to be married from, she shall be married from +Chaldicotes. We'll have such a breakfast! And I'll make as much of +her as if she were the daughter of my old friend, the bishop +himself,—I will indeed."</p> + +<p>This was Mrs Thorne's advice. Before it was completed, Major Grantly +had been carried half-way to Chaldicotes. When he left his impetuous +friend he was too prudent to make any promise, but he declared that +what she had said should have much weight with him.</p> + +<p>"You won't mention it to anybody," said the Major.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, without your leave," said Mrs Thorne. "Don't you know +that I'm the soul of honour?"</p> + + +<p><a name="c15" id="c15"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> +<h3>Up in London<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Some kind and attentive reader may perhaps remember that Miss Grace +Crawley, in a letter written by her to her friend Miss Lily Dale, +said a word or two of a certain John. "If it can only be as John +wishes it!" And the same reader, if there be one so kind and +attentive, may also remember that Miss Lily Dale had declared, in +reply, that "about that other subject she would rather say +nothing,"—and then she added, "When one thinks of going beyond +friendship,—even if one tries to do so,—there are so many +barriers!" From which words the kind and attentive reader, if such +reader be in such matters intelligent as well as kind and attentive, +may have learned a great deal in reference to Miss Lily Dale.</p> + +<p>We will now pay a visit to the John in question,—a certain Mr John +Eames, living in London, a bachelor, as the intelligent reader will +certainly have discovered, and cousin to Miss Grace Crawley. Mr John +Eames at the time of our story was a young man, some seven or eight +and twenty years of age, living in London, where he was supposed by +his friends in the country to have made his mark, and to be something +a little out of the common way. But I do not know that he was very +much out of the common way, except in the fact that he had some few +thousand pounds left him by an old nobleman, who had been in no way +related to him, but who had regarded him with great affection, and +who had died some two years since. Before this, John Eames had not +been a very poor man, as he filled the comfortable official position +of private secretary to the Chief Commissioner of the Income-tax +Board, and drew a salary of three hundred and fifty pounds a year +from the resources of his country; but when, in addition to this +source of official wealth, he became known as the undoubted possessor +of a hundred and twenty-eight shares in one of the most prosperous +joint-stock banks in the metropolis, which property had been left to +him free of legacy duty by the lamented nobleman above named, then Mr +John Eames rose very high indeed as a young man in the estimation of +those who knew him, and was supposed to be something a good deal out +of the common way. His mother, who lived in the country, was obedient +to his slightest word, never venturing to impose upon him any sign of +parental authority; and to his sister, Mary Eames, who lived with her +mother, he was almost a god upon earth. To sisters who have nothing +of their own,—not even some special god for their own individual +worship,—generous, affectionate, unmarried brothers, with sufficient +incomes, are gods upon earth.</p> + +<p>And even up in London Mr John Eames was somebody. He was so +especially at his office; although, indeed, it was remembered by many +a man how raw a lad he had been when he first came there, not so very +many years ago; and how they had laughed at him and played him +tricks; and how he had customarily been known to be without a +shilling for the last week before pay-day, during which period he +would borrow sixpence here and a shilling there with energy, from men +who now felt themselves to be honoured when he smiled upon them. +Little stories of his former days would often be told of him behind +his back; but they were not told with ill-nature, because he was very +constant in referring to the same matters himself. And it was +acknowledged by every one at the office, that neither the friendship +of the nobleman, nor that fact of the private secretaryship, nor the +acquisition of his wealth, had made him proud to his old companions +or forgetful of old friendships. To the young men, lads who had +lately been appointed, he was perhaps a little cold; but then it was +only reasonable to conceive that such a one as Mr John Eames was now +could not be expected to make an intimate acquaintance with every new +clerk that might be brought into the office. Since competitive +examinations had come into vogue, there was no knowing who might be +introduced; and it was understood generally through the +establishment,—and I may almost say by the civil service at large, +so wide was his fame,—that Mr Eames was very averse to the whole +theory of competition. The "Devil take the hindmost" scheme he called +it; and would then go on to explain that hindmost candidates were +often the best gentlemen, and that, in this way, the Devil got the +pick of the flock. And he was respected the more for this because it +was known that on this subject he had fought some hard battles with +the chief commissioner. The chief commissioner was a great believer +in competition, wrote papers about it, which he read aloud to various +bodies of the civil service,—not at all to their delight,—which he +got to be printed here and there, and which he sent by post all over +the kingdom. More than once this chief commissioner had told his +private secretary that they must part company, unless the private +secretary could see fit to alter his view, or could, at least, keep +his views to himself. But the private secretary would do neither; +and, nevertheless, there he was, still private secretary. "It's +because Johnny has got money," said one of the young clerks, who was +discussing this singular state of things with his brethren at the +office. "When a chap has got money, he may do what he likes. Johnny +has got lots of money, you know." The young clerk in question was by +no means on intimate terms with Mr Eames, but there had grown up in +the office a way of calling him Johnny behind his back, which had +probably come down from the early days of his scrapes and his +poverty.</p> + +<p>Now the entire life of Mr John Eames was pervaded by a great secret; +and although he never, in those days, alluded to the subject in +conversation with any man belonging to the office, yet the secret was +known to them all. It had been historical for the last four or five +years, and was now regarded as a thing of course. Mr John Eames was +in love, and his love was not happy. He was in love, and had long +been in love, and the lady of his love was not kind to him. The +little history had grown to be very touching and pathetic, having +received, no doubt, some embellishments from the imaginations of the +gentlemen of the Income-tax Office. It was said of him that he had +been in love from his early boyhood, that at sixteen he had been +engaged, under the sanction of the nobleman now deceased and of the +young lady's parents, that contracts of betrothal had been drawn up, +and things done very unusual in private families in these days, and +that then there had come a stranger into the neighbourhood just as +the young lady was beginning to reflect whether she had a heart of +her own or not, and that she had thrown her parents, and the noble +lord, and the contract, and poor Johnny Eames to the winds, and had— +Here the story took different directions, as told by different men. +Some said the lady had gone off with the stranger and that there had +been a clandestine marriage, which afterwards turned out to be no +marriage at all; others, that the stranger suddenly took himself off, +and was no more seen by the young lady; others that he owned at last +to having another wife,—and so on. The stranger was very well known +to be one Mr Crosbie, belonging to another public office; and there +were circumstances in his life, only half known, which gave rise to +these various rumours. But there was one thing certain, one point as +to which no clerk in the Income-tax Office had a doubt, one fact +which had conduced much to the high position which Mr John Eames now +held in the estimation of his brother clerks,—he had given this Mr +Crosbie such a thrashing that no man had ever received such treatment +before and lived through it. Wonderful stories were told about that +thrashing, so that it was believed, even by the least enthusiastic in +such matters, that the poor victim had only dragged on a crippled +existence since the encounter. "For nine weeks he never said a word +or eat a mouthful," said one young clerk to a younger clerk who was +just entering the office; "and even now he can't speak above a +whisper, and has to take all his food in pap." It will be seen, +therefore, that Mr John Eames had about him much of the heroic.</p> + +<p>That he was still in love, and in love with the same lady, was known +to every one in the office. When it was declared of him that in the +way of amatory expressions he had never in his life opened his mouth +to another woman, there were those in the office who knew this was an +exaggeration. Mr Cradell, for instance, who in his early years had +been very intimate with John Eames, and who still kept up the old +friendship.—although, being a domestic man, with a wife and six young +children, and living on a small income, he did not go out much among +his friends,—could have told a very different story; for Mrs Cradell +herself had, in days before Cradell had made good his claim upon her, +been not unadmired by Cradell's fellow-clerk. But the constancy of Mr +Eames's present love was doubted by none who knew him. It was not +that he went about with his stockings ungartered, or any of the old +acknowledged signs of unrequited affection. In his manner he was +rather jovial than otherwise, and seemed to live a happy, somewhat +luxurious life, well contented with himself and the world around him. +But still he had this passion within his bosom, and I am inclined to +think that he was a little proud of his own constancy.</p> + +<p>It might be presumed that when Miss Dale wrote to her friend Grace +Crawley about going beyond friendship, pleading that there were so +many "barriers", she had probably seen her way over most of them. But +this was not so; nor did John Eames himself at all believe that the +barriers were in a way to be overcome. I will not say that he had +given the whole thing up as a bad job, because it was the law of his +life that the thing never should be abandoned as long as hope was +possible. Unless Miss Dale should become the wife of somebody else, +he would always regard himself as affianced to her. He had so +declared to Miss Dale herself and to Miss Dale's mother, and to all +the Dale people who had ever been interested in the matter. And there +was an old lady living in Miss Dale's neighbourhood, the sister of +the lord who had left Johnny Eames the bank shares, who always fought +his battles for him, and kept a close lookout, fully resolved that +John Eames should be rewarded at last. This old lady was connected +with the Dales by family ties, and therefore had means of close +observation. She was in constant correspondence with John Eames, and +never failed to acquaint him when any of the barriers were, in her +judgment, giving way. The nature of some of the barriers may possibly +be made intelligible to my readers by the following letter from Lady +Julia De Guest to her young friend.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Guestwick +Cottage</span>, –– December, 186––</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear John</span>,</p> + +<p>I am much obliged to you for going to Jones's. I send +stamps for two shillings and fourpence, which is what I +owe to you. It used only to be two shillings and twopence, +but they say everything has got to be dearer now, and I +suppose pills as well as other things. Only think of +Pritchard coming to me, and saying she wanted her wages +raised, after living with me for twenty years! I was +<span class="u">very</span> angry, and scolded her +roundly; but as she +acknowledged she had been wrong, and cried and begged my +pardon, I did give her two guineas a year more.</p> + +<p>I saw dear Lily just for a moment on Sunday, and upon my +word I think she grows prettier every year. She had a +young friend with her,—a Miss Crawley,—who, I believe, +is the cousin I have heard you speak of. What is this sad +story about her father, the clergyman? Mind you tell me +all about it.</p> + +<p>It is quite true what I told you about the De Courcys. Old +Lady De Courcy is in London, and Mr Crosbie is going to +law with her about his wife's money. He has been at it in +one way or the other ever since poor Lady Alexandrina +died. I wish she had lived, with all my heart. For though +I feel sure that our Lily will never willingly see him +again, yet the tidings of her death disturbed her, and set +her thinking of things that were fading from her mind. I +rated her soundly, not mentioning your name, however; but +she only kissed me, and told me in her quiet drolling way +that I didn't mean a word of what I said.</p> + +<p>You can come here whenever you please after the tenth of +January. But if you come early in January you must go to your +mother first, and come to me for the last week of your +holiday. Go to Blackie's in Regent Street, and bring me +down all the colours in wool that I ordered. I said you +would call. And tell them at Dolland's the last spectacles +don't suit at all, and I won't keep them; they had better +send me down, by you, one or two more pairs to try. And +you had better see Smithers and Smith, in Lincoln's Inn +Fields, No 57—but you have been there before,—and beg +them to let me know how my poor dear brother's matters are +to be settled at last. As far as I can see I shall be dead +before I shall know what income I have got to spend. As to +my cousins at the manor, I never see them; and as to +talking to them about business, I should not dream of it. +She hasn't come to me since she first called, and she may +be <span class="u">quite sure</span> +I shan't go to her till she does. Indeed I +think we shall like each other apart quite as much as we +should together. So let me know when you're coming, and +<span class="u">pray</span> don't forget +to call at Blackie's; nor yet at +Dolland's, which is much more important than the wool, +because of my eyes getting so weak. But what I want you +specially to remember is about Smithers and Smith. How is +a woman to live if she doesn't know how much she has got +to spend?</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">Believe me to be, +my dear John,</span><br /> +<span class="ind10">Your most sincere friend,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Julia De +Guest</span>.</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Lady Julia always directed her letters for her young friend to his +office, and there he received the one now given to the reader. When +he had read it he made a memorandum as to the commissions, and then +threw himself back in his arm-chair to think over the tidings +communicated to him. All the facts stated he had known before; that +Lady De Courcy was in London, and that her son-in-law, Mr Crosbie, +whose wife,—Lady Alexandrina,—had died some twelve months since at +Baden Baden, was at variance with her respecting money which he +supposed to be due to him. But there was that in Lady Julia's letter +that was wormwood to him. Lily Dale was again thinking of this man, +whom she had loved in the old days, and who had treated her with +monstrous perfidy! It was all very well for Lady Julia to be sure +that Lily Dale would never desire to see Mr Crosbie again; but John +Eames was by no means equally certain that it would be so. "The +tidings of her death disturbed her!" said Johnny, repeating to +himself certain words out of the old lady's letter. "I know they +disturbed me. I wish she could have lived for ever. If he ever +ventures to show himself within ten miles of Allington, I'll see if I +cannot do better than I did the last time I met him!" Then there came +a knock at the door, and the private secretary, finding himself to be +somewhat annoyed by the disturbance at such a moment, bade the +intruder enter in an angry voice. "Oh, it's you, Cradell, is it? What +can I do for you?" Mr Cradell, who now entered, and who, as before +said, was an old ally of John Eames, was a clerk of longer standing +in the department than his friend. In age he looked to be much older, +and he had left with him none of that appearance of the gloss of +youth which will stick for many years to men who are fortunate in +their worldly affairs. Indeed it may be said that Mr Cradell was +almost shabby in his outward appearance, and his brow seemed to be +laden with care, and his eyes were dull and heavy.</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd just come in and ask you how you are," said Cradell.</p> + +<p>"I'm pretty well, thank you; and how are you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm pretty well,—in health, that is. You see one has so many +things to think of when one has a large family. Upon my word, Johnny, +I think you've been lucky to keep out of it."</p> + +<p>"I have kept out of it, at any rate; haven't I?"</p> + +<p>"Of course; living with you as much as I used to do, I know the whole +story of what kept you single."</p> + +<p>"Don't mind about that, Cradell; what is it you want?"</p> + +<p>"I mustn't let you suppose, Johnny, that I'm grumbling about my lot. +Nobody knows better than you what a trump I got in my wife."</p> + +<p>"Of course you did;—an excellent woman."</p> + +<p>"And if I cut you out a little there, I'm sure you never felt malice +against me for that."</p> + +<p>"Never for a moment, old fellow."</p> + +<p>"We all have our luck, you know."</p> + +<p>"Your luck has been a wife and family. My luck has been to be a +bachelor."</p> + +<p>"You may say a family," said Cradell. "I'm sure that Amelia does the +best she can; but we are desperately pushed sometimes,—desperately +pushed. I never was so bad, Johnny, as I am now."</p> + +<p>"So you said last time."</p> + +<p>"Did I? I don't remember it. I didn't think I was so bad then. But, +Johnny, if you can let me have one more fiver now I have made +arrangements with Amelia how I'm to pay you off by thirty shillings a +month,—as I get my salary. Indeed I have. Ask her else."</p> + +<p>"I'll be shot if I do."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"It's no good your Johnnying me, for I won't be Johnnyed out of +another shilling. It comes too often, and there's no reason why I +should do it. And what's more, I can't afford it. I've people of my +own to help."</p> + +<p>"But oh, Johnny, we all know how comfortable you are. And I'm sure no +one rejoiced as I did when the money was left to you. If it had been +myself I could hardly have thought more of it. Upon my solemn word +and honour if you'll let me have it this time, it shall be the last."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word and honour then, I won't. There must be an end to +everything."</p> + +<p>Although Mr Cradell would probably, if pressed, have admitted the +truth of this last assertion, he did not seem to think that the end +had as yet come to his friend's benevolence. It certainly had not +come to his own importunity. "Don't say that, Johnny; pray don't."</p> + +<p>"But I do say it."</p> + +<p>"When I told Amelia yesterday evening that I didn't like to go to you +again, because of course a man has feelings, she told me to mention +her name. 'I'm sure he'd do it for my sake,' she said."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe she said anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word she did. You ask her."</p> + +<p>"And if she did, she oughtn't to have said it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Johnny, don't speak in that way of her. She's my wife, and you +know what your own feelings were once. But look here,—we are in that +state at home at this moment, that I must get money somewhere before +I go home. I must, indeed. If you'll let me have three pounds this +once, I'll never ask you again. I'll give you a written promise if +you like, and I'll pledge myself to pay it back by thirty shillings a +time out of the next two months' salary. I will, indeed." And then Mr +Cradell began to cry. But when Johnny at last took out his +cheque-book and wrote a cheque for three pounds, Mr Cradell's eyes +glistened with joy. "Upon my word I am so much obliged to you! You +are the best fellow that ever lived. And Amelia will say the same +when she hears of it."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe she'll say anything of the kind, Cradell. If I +remember anything of her, she has a stouter heart than that." Cradell +admitted that his wife had a stouter heart than himself, and then +made his way back to his own part of the office.</p> + +<p>This little interruption to the current of Mr Eames's thoughts was, I +think, for the good for the service, as immediately on his friend's +departure he went to his work; whereas, had not he been called away +from his reflections about Miss Dale, he would have sat thinking +about her affairs probably for the rest of the morning. As it was, he +really did write a dozen notes in answer to as many private letters +addressed to his chief, Sir Raffle Buffle, in all of which he made +excellently-worded false excuses for the non-performance of various +requests made to Sir Raffle by the writers. "He's about the best hand +at it that I know," said Sir Raffle, one day, to the secretary; +"otherwise you may be sure I shouldn't keep him there." "I will allow +that he is clever," said the secretary. "It isn't cleverness, so much +as tact. It's what I call tact. I hadn't been long in the service +before I mastered it myself; and now that I've been at the trouble to +teach him I don't want to have the trouble to teach another. But upon +my word he must mind his <i>p</i>'s and <i>q</i>'s; upon my word, he must; and +you had better tell him so." "The fact is, Mr Kissing," said the +private secretary the next day to the secretary,—Mr Kissing was at +that time secretary to the board of commissioners for the receipt of +income tax—"The fact is, Mr Kissing, Sir Raffle should never attempt +to write a letter himself. He doesn't know how to do it. He always +says twice too much, and yet not half enough. I wish you'd tell him +so. He won't believe me." From which it will be seen Mr Eames was +proud of his special accomplishment, but did not feel any gratitude +to the master who assumed to himself the glory of having taught him. +On the present occasion John Eames wrote all his letters before he +thought again of Lily Dale, and was able to write them without +interruption, as the chairman was absent for the day at the +Treasury,—or perhaps at his club. Then, when he had finished, he +rang his bell, and ordered some sherry and soda-water, and stretched +himself before the fire,—as though his exertions in the public +service had been very great,—and seated himself comfortably in his +arm-chair, and lit a cigar, and again took out Lady Julia's letter.</p> + +<p>As regarded the cigar, it may be said that both Sir Raffle and Mr +Kissing had given orders that on no account should cigars be lit +within the precincts of the Income-tax Office. Mr Eames had taken +upon himself to understand that such orders did not apply to a +private secretary, and was well aware that Sir Raffle knew his habit. +To Mr Kissing, I regret to say, he put himself in opposition whenever +and wherever opposition was possible; so that men in the office said +that one of the two must go at last. "But Johnny can do anything, you +know, because he has got money." That was too frequently the opinion +finally expressed among the men.</p> + +<p>So John Eames sat down, and drank his soda-water, and smoked his +cigar, and read his letter; or, rather, simply that paragraph of the +letter which referred to Miss Dale. "The tidings of her death have +disturbed her, and set her thinking again of things that were fading +from her mind." He understood it all. And yet how could it possibly +be so? How could it be that she should not despise a man,—despise +him if she did not hate him,—who had behaved as this man had behaved +to her? It was now four years since this Crosbie had been engaged to +Miss Dale, and had jilted her so heartlessly as to incur the disgust +of every man in London who had heard the story. He had married an +earl's daughter, who had left him within a few months of their +marriage, and now Mr Crosbie's noble wife was dead. The wife was +dead, and simply because the man was free again, he, John Eames, was +to be told that Miss Dale's mind was "disturbed", and that her +thoughts were going back to things which had faded from her memory, +and which should have been long since banished altogether from such +holy ground.</p> + +<p>If Lily Dale were now to marry Mr Crosbie, anything so perversely +cruel as the fate of John Eames would never yet have been told in +romance. That was his own idea on the matter as he sat smoking his +cigar. I have said that he was proud of his constancy, and yet, in +some sort, he was also ashamed of it. He acknowledged the fact of his +love, and believed himself to have out-Jacobed Jacob; but he felt +that it was hard for a man who had risen in the world as he had done +to be made a plaything of by a foolish passion. It was now four years +ago,—that affair of Crosbie,—and Miss Dale should have accepted him +long since. Half-a-dozen times he had made up his mind to be very +stern to her; and he had written somewhat sternly,—but the first +moment that he saw her he was conquered again. "And now that brute +will reappear, and everything will be wrong again," he said to +himself. If the brute did reappear, something should happen of which +the world should hear the tidings. So he lit another cigar, and began +to think what that something should be.</p> + +<p>As he did so he heard a loud noise, as of harsh, rattling winds in +the next room, and he knew that Sir Raffle had come back from the +Treasury. There was a creaking of boots, and a knocking of chairs, +and a ringing of bells, and then a loud angry voice,—a voice that +was very harsh, and on this occasion very angry. Why had not his +twelve o'clock letters been sent up to him to the West End? Why not? +Mr Eames knew all about it. Why did Mr Eames know all about it? Why +had not Mr Eames sent them up? Where was Mr Eames? Let Mr Eames be +sent to him. All which Mr Eames heard standing with the cigar in his +mouth and his back to the fire. "Somebody has been bullying old +Buffle, I suppose. After all he has been up at the Treasure to-day," +said Eames to himself. But he did not stir till the messenger had +been to him, nor even then at once. "All right, Rafferty," he said; +"I'll go in just now." Then he took half-a-dozen more whiffs from the +cigar, threw the remainder into the fire, and opened the door which +communicated between his room and Sir Raffle's.</p> + +<p>The great man was standing with two unopened epistles in his hand. +"Eames," said he, "here are letters<span class="nowrap">—"</span> +Then he stopped himself, and +began upon another subject. "Did I not give express orders that I +would have no smoking in the office?"</p> + +<p>"I think Mr Kissing said something about it, sir."</p> + +<p>"Mr Kissing! It was not Mr Kissing at all. It was I. I gave the order +myself."</p> + +<p>"You'll find it began with Mr Kissing."</p> + +<p>"It did not begin with Mr Kissing; it began and ended with me. What +are you going to do, sir?" John Eames stepped towards the bell, and +his hand was already on the bell-pull.</p> + +<p>"I was going to ring for the papers, sir."</p> + +<p>"And who told you to ring for the papers? I don't want the papers. +The papers won't show anything. I suppose my word may be taken +without the papers. Since you're so fond of Mr +Kissing<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I'm not fond of Mr Kissing at all."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to go back to him, and let somebody come here who will +not be too independent to obey my orders. Here are two most important +letters have been lying here all day, instead of being sent up to me +at the Treasury."</p> + +<p>"Of course they have been lying there. I thought you were at the +club."</p> + +<p>"I told you I should go to the Treasury. I have been there all +morning with the chancellor,"—when Sir Raffle spoke officially of +the chancellor he was not supposed to mean the Lord Chancellor—"and +here I find letters which I particularly wanted lying upon my desk +now. I must put an end to this kind of thing. I must, indeed. If you +like the outer office better say so at once, and you can go."</p> + +<p>"I'll think about it, Sir Raffle."</p> + +<p>"Think about it! What do you mean by thinking about it? But I can't +talk about that now. I'm very busy, and shall be here till past +seven. I suppose you can stay?"</p> + +<p>"All night, if you wish it, sir."</p> + +<p>"Very well. That will do for the present.—I wouldn't have had these +letters delayed for twenty pounds."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose it would have mattered one straw if both of them +remained unopened till next week." This last little speech, however, +was not made aloud to Sir Raffle, but by Johnny to himself in the +solitude of his own room.</p> + +<p>Very soon after that he went away, Sir Raffle having discovered that +one of the letters in question required his immediate return to the +West End. "I've changed my mind about staying. I shan't stay now. I +should have done if these letters had reached me as they ought."</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose I can go?"</p> + +<p>"You can do as you like about that," said Sir Raffle.</p> + +<p>Eames did do as he liked, and went home, or to his club; and as he +went he resolved that he would put an end, and at once, to the +present trouble of his life. Lily Dale should accept him or reject +him; and, taking either the one or the other alternative, she should +hear a bit of his mind plainly spoken.</p> + + +<p><a name="c16" id="c16"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI</h3> +<h3>Down at Allington<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was Christmas-time down at Allington, and at three o'clock on +Christmas Eve, just as the darkness of the early winter evening was +coming on, Lily Dale and Grace Crawley were seated together, one +above the other, on the steps leading up to the pulpit in Allington +Church. They had been working all day at the decorations of the +church, and they were now looking round them at the result of their +handiwork. To an eye unused to the gloom the place would have been +nearly dark; but they could see every corner turned by the ivy +sprigs, and every line on which the holly-leaves were shining. And +the greeneries of the winter had not been stuck up in the +old-fashioned, idle way, a bough just fastened up here and a twig +inserted there; but everything had been done with some meaning, with +some thought towards the original architecture of the building. The +Gothic lines had been followed, and all the lower arches which it had +been possible to reach with an ordinary ladder had been turned as +truly with the laurel cuttings as they had been turned originally +with the stone.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't tie another twig," said the elder girl, "for all the +Christmas pudding that was ever boiled."</p> + +<p>"It's lucky then that there isn't another twig to tie."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that. I see a score of places where the work has +been scamped. This is the sixth time I have done the church, and I +don't think I'll ever do it again. When we first began it, Bell and +I, you know,—before Bell was married,—Mrs Boyce, and the Boycian +establishment generally, used to come and help. Or rather we used to +help her. Now she hardly ever looks after it at all."</p> + +<p>"She is older, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"She's a little older, and a deal idler. How idle people do get! Look +at him. Since he has had a curate he hardly ever stirs round the +parish. And he is getting so fat that— H—sh! Here she is +herself,—come to give her judgment upon us." Then a stout lady, the +wife of the vicar, walked slowly up the aisle. "Well, girls," she +said, "you have worked hard, and I am sure Mr Boyce will be very much +obliged to you."</p> + +<p>"Mr Boyce, indeed!" said Lily Dale. "We shall expect the whole parish +to rise from their seats and thank us. Why didn't Jane and Bessy come +and help us?"</p> + +<p>"They were so tired when they came in from the coal club. Besides, +they don't care for this kind of thing,—not as you do."</p> + +<p>"Jane is utilitarian to the backbone, I know," said Lily, "and Bessy +doesn't like getting up ladders."</p> + +<p>"As for ladders," said Mrs Boyce, defending her daughter, "I am not +quite sure that Bessy isn't right. You don't mean to say that you did +all those capitals yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Every twig, with Hopkins to hold the ladder and cut the sticks; and +as Hopkins is just a hundred and one years old, we could have done it +pretty nearly as well alone."</p> + +<p>"I do not think that," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"He has been grumbling all the time," said Lily, "and swears he never +will have the laurels so robbed again. Five or six years ago he used +to declare that death would certainly save him from the pain of such +another desecration before the next Christmas; but he has given up +that foolish notion now, and talks as though he meant to protect the +Allington shrubs at any rate to the end of this century."</p> + +<p>"I am sure we gave our share from the parsonage," said Mrs Boyce, who +never understood a joke.</p> + +<p>"All the best came from the parsonage, as of course they ought," said +Lily. "But Hopkins had to make up the deficiency. And as my uncle +told him to take the haycart for them instead of the hand-barrow, he +is broken-hearted."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he was very good-natured," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless he is broken-hearted; and I am very good-natured too, +and I am broken-backed. Who is going to preach to-morrow morning, Mrs +Boyce?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Swanton will preach in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Tell him not to be too long, because of the children's pudding. Tell +Mr Boyce if he is long, we won't any of us come next Sunday."</p> + +<p>"My dear, how can you say such wicked things! I shall not tell him +anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"That's not wicked, Mrs Boyce. If I were to say I had eaten so much +lunch that I didn't want any dinner, you'd understand that. If Mr +Swanton will preach for three-quarters of an hour<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"He only preached for three-quarters of an hour once, Lily."</p> + +<p>"He has been over the half-hour every Sunday since he has been here. +His average is over forty minutes, and I say it's a shame."</p> + +<p>"It is not a shame at all, Lily," said Mrs Boyce, becoming very +serious.</p> + +<p>"Look at my uncle; he doesn't like to go to sleep, and he has to +suffer a purgatory in keeping himself awake."</p> + +<p>"If your uncle is heavy, how can Mr Swanton help it? If Mr Dale's +mind were on the subject he would not sleep."</p> + +<p>"Come, Mrs Boyce; there's somebody else sleeps sometimes besides my +uncle. When Mr Boyce puts up his finger and just touches his nose, I +know as well as possible why he does it."</p> + +<p>"Lily Dale, you have no business to say so. It is not true. I don't +know how you can bring yourself to talk in that way of your own +clergyman. If I were to tell your mamma, she would be shocked."</p> + +<p>"You won't be so ill-natured, Mrs Boyce,—after all that I've done +for the church."</p> + +<p>"If you think more about the clergyman, Lily, and less about the +church," said Mrs Boyce very sententiously, "more about the matter +and less about the manner, more of the reality and less of the form, +I think you'd find that your religion would go further with you. Miss +Crawley is the daughter of a clergyman, and I'm sure she will agree +with me."</p> + +<p>"If she agrees with anybody in scolding me I'll quarrel with her."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to scold you, Lily."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind it from you, Mrs Boyce. Indeed, I rather like it. It is +a sort of pastoral visitation; and as Mr Boyce never scolds me +himself I take it from him by attorney." Then there was silence for a +minute or two, during which Mrs Boyce was endeavouring to discover +whether Miss Dale was laughing at her or not. As she was not quite +certain, she thought at last that she would let the suspected fault +pass unobserved. "Don't wait for us, Mrs Boyce," said Lily. "We must +remain till Hopkins has sent Gregory to sweep the church out and take +away the rubbish. We'll see that the key is left at Mrs Giles's."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my dear. Then I may as well go. I thought I'd come in and +see that it was all right. I'm sure Mr Boyce will be very much +obliged to you and Miss Crawley. Good-night, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Mrs Boyce; and be sure you don't let Mr Swanton be long +to-morrow." To this parting shot Mrs Boyce made no rejoinder; but she +hurried out of the church somewhat quicker for it, and closed the +door after her with something of a slam.</p> + +<p>Of all persons clergymen are the most irreverent in the handling of +things supposed to be sacred, and next to them clergyman's wives, and +after them those other ladies, old or young, who take upon themselves +semi-clerical duties. And it is natural that it should be so; for is +it not said that familiarity does breed contempt? When a parson takes +his lay friend over his church on a week day, how much less of the +spirit of genuflexion and head-uncovering the clergyman will display +to the layman! The parson pulls about the woodwork and knocks about +the stonework, as though it were mere wood and stone; and talks aloud +in the aisle, and treats even the reading-desk as a common thing; +whereas the visitor whispers gently, and carries himself as though +even in looking at a church he was bound to regard himself as +performing some service that was half divine. Now Lily Dale and Grace +Crawley were both accustomed to churches, and had been so long at +work in this church for the last two days, that the building had lost +to them much of its sacredness, and they were almost as irreverent as +though they were two curates.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad she has gone," said Lily. "We shall have to stop here +for the next hour, as Gregory won't know what to take away and what +to leave. I was so afraid she was going to stop and see us off the +premises."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you should dislike her."</p> + +<p>"I don't dislike her. I like her very well," said Lily Dale. "But +don't you feel that there are people whom one knows very intimately, +who are really friends,—for whom if they were dying one would +grieve, whom if they were in misfortune one would go far to help, but +with whom for all that one can have no sympathy. And yet they are so +near to one that they know all the events of one's life, and are +justified by unquestioned friendship in talking about things which +should never be mentioned except where sympathy exists."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I understand that."</p> + +<p>"Everybody understands it who has been unhappy. That woman sometimes +says things to me that make me wish,—wish that they'd make him +bishop of Patagonia. And yet she does it all in friendship, and mamma +says that she is quite right."</p> + +<p>"I liked her for standing up for her husband."</p> + +<p>"But he does go to sleep,—and then he scratches his nose to show +that he's awake. I shouldn't have said it, only she is always hinting +at uncle Christopher. Uncle Christopher certainly does go to sleep +when Mr Boyce preaches, and he hasn't studied any scientific little +movements during his slumbers to make the people believe that he's +all alive. I gave him a hint one day, and he got so angry with me!"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have thought he could have been angry with you. It seems +to me from what you say that you may do whatever you please with +him."</p> + +<p>"He is very good to me. If you knew it all,—if you could understand +how good he has been! I'll try and tell you one day. It is not what +he has done that makes me love him so,—but what he has thoroughly +understood, and what, so understanding, he has not done, and what he +has not said. It is a case of sympathy. If ever there was a gentleman +uncle Christopher is one. And I used to dislike him so, at one time!"</p> + +<p>"And why?"</p> + +<p>"Chiefly because he would make me wear brown frocks when I wanted to +have them pink or green. And he kept me for six months from having +them long, and up to this day he scolds me if there is half an inch +on the ground for him to tread upon."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't mind that if I were you."</p> + +<p>"I don't,—not now. But it used to be serious when I was a young +girl. And we thought, Bell and I, that he was cross to mamma. He and +mamma didn't agree at first, you know, as they do now. It is quite +true that he did dislike mamma when we first came here."</p> + +<p>"I can't think how anybody could ever dislike Mrs Dale."</p> + +<p>"But he did. And then he wanted to make up a marriage between Bell +and my cousin Bernard. But neither of them cared a bit for the other, +and then he used to scold them,—and then,—and then,—and then— Oh, +he was so good to me! Here's Gregory at last. Gregory, we've been +waiting this hour and a half."</p> + +<p>"It ain't ten minutes since Hopkins let me come with the barrows, +miss."</p> + +<p>"Then Hopkins is a traitor. Never mind. You'd better begin now,—up +there at the steps. It'll be quite dark in a few minutes. Here's Mrs +Giles with her broom. Come, Mrs Giles; we shall have to pass the +night here if you don't make haste. Are you cold, Grace?"</p> + +<p>"No; I'm not cold. I'm thinking what they're doing now in the church +at Hogglestock."</p> + +<p>"The Hogglestock church is not pretty;—like this?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. It is a very plain brick building, with something like a +pigeon-house for a belfry. And the pulpit is over the reading-desk, +and the reading-desk over the clerk, so that papa, when he preaches, +is nearly up to the ceiling. And the whole place is divided into +pews, in which the farmers hide themselves when they come to church."</p> + +<p>"So that nobody can see whether they go to sleep or no. Oh, Mrs +Giles, you mustn't pull that down. That's what we have been putting +up all day."</p> + +<p>"But it be in the way, miss; so that the minister can't budge in or +out o' the door."</p> + +<p>"Never mind. Then he must stay one side or the other. That would be +too much after all our trouble!" And Miss Dale hurried across the +chancel to save some pretty arching boughs, which, in the judgment of +Mrs Giles, encroached too much on the vestry door. "As if it +signified which side he was," she said in a whisper to Grace.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose they'll have anything in the church at home," said +Grace.</p> + +<p>"Somebody will stick up a wreath or two, I daresay."</p> + +<p>"Nobody will. There never is anybody at Hogglestock to stick up +wreaths, or do anything for the prettinesses of life. And now there +will be less done than ever. How can mamma look after the +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."</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew your mother, Grace."</p> + +<p>"I think it would be impossible for any one to know mamma now,—for +any one who had not known her before. She never makes even a new +acquaintance. She seems to think that there is nothing left for her +in the world but to try and keep papa out of his misery. And she does +not succeed in that. Poor papa!"</p> + +<p>"Is he very unhappy about this wicked accusation?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is very unhappy. But, Lily, I don't know about its being +wicked."</p> + +<p>"But you know that it is untrue."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, dear. Remember how anxious Mrs Crawley was that you +should come."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Is it so very bad with them, Grace?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"What can we do for her, Grace?"</p> + +<p>"You can do nothing, Lily. But when things are like that at home you +can understand what I feel in being here."</p> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"But who says you're an old maid, Lily?"</p> + +<p>"I see it in people's eyes, and hear it in their voices. And they all +talk to me as if I were very 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."</p> + +<p>"I daresay you deserved it, my dear."</p> + +<p>"No, I did not, mamma. Ask Grace if I did."</p> + +<p>"Was she not saucy to Mrs Boyce, Miss Crawley?"</p> + +<p>"She said that Mr Boyce scratches his nose in church," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"So he does; and goes to sleep, too."</p> + +<p>"If you told Mrs Boyce that, Lily, I think she was quite right to +scold you."</p> + +<p>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 misfortune. +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 Boyces of +her acquaintance,—whispered among themselves that Lily Dale was not +so soft of heart as people used to think.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>Coming out of church, Grace was introduced to the old squire. He was +a thin, old man, with grey hair, and the smallest possible grey +whiskers, with a dry, solemn face; not carrying in his outward gait +much of the customary jollity for Christmas. He took his hat off to +Grace, and said some word to her as to hoping to have the pleasure of +seeing her at dinner. It sounded very cold to her, and she became at +once afraid of him. "I wish I was not going," she said to Lily, +again. "I know he thinks I ought not to go. I shall be so thankful if +you will but let me stay."</p> + +<p>"Don't be so foolish, Grace. It all comes from your not knowing him, +or understanding him. And how should you understand him? I give you +my word that I would tell you if I did not know that he wishes you to +go."</p> + +<p>She had to go. "Of course I haven't a dress fit. How should I?" she +said to Lily. "How wrong it is of me to put myself up to such a thing +as this."</p> + +<p>"Your dress is beautiful, child. We are none of us going in evening +dresses. Pray believe that I will not make you do wrong. If you won't +trust me, can't you trust mamma?"</p> + +<p>Of course she went. When the three ladies entered the drawing-room of +the Great House, they found that Lady Julia had arrived just before +them. Lady Julia immediately took hold of Lily, and led her apart, +having a word or two to say about the clerk in the Income-tax Office. +I am not sure but what the dear old woman sometimes said a few more +words than were expedient, with a view to the object which she had so +closely at heart. "John is to be with us the first week in February," +she said. "I suppose you'll see him before that, as he'll probably be +with his mother a few days before he comes to me."</p> + +<p>"I daresay we shall see him quite in time, Lady Julia," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"Now, Lily, don't be ill-natured."</p> + +<p>"I'm the most good-natured young woman alive, Lady Julia; and as for +Johnny, he is always as welcome at the Small House as violets in +March. Mamma purrs about him when he comes, asking all manner of +flattering questions as though he were a cabinet minister at least, +and I always admire some little knickknack that he has got, a new +ring, or a stud, or a button. There isn't another man in all the +world whose buttons I'd look at."</p> + +<p>"It isn't his buttons, Lily."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's just it. I can go as far as his buttons. But, come, Lady +Julia, this is Christmas-time, and Christmas should be a holiday."</p> + +<p>In the meantime Mrs Dale was occupied with her married daughter and +her son-in-law, and the squire had attached himself to poor Grace. +"You have never been in this part of the country before, Miss +Crawley," he said.</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"It is rather pretty just about here, and Guestwick Manor is a fine +place in its way, but we have not so much natural beauty as you have +in Barsetshire. Chaldicote Chase is, I think, as pretty as anything +in England."</p> + +<p>"I never saw Chaldicote Chase, sir. It isn't pretty at all at +Hogglestock, where we live."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I forgot. No; it is not very pretty at Hogglestock. That's where +the bricks come from."</p> + +<p>"Papa is clergyman at Hogglestock."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I remember. Your father is a great scholar. I have often +heard of him. I am sorry he should be distressed by this charge they +have made. But it will all come right at the assizes. They always get +at the truth there. I used to be intimate with a clergyman in +Barsetshire of the name of Grantly;"—Grace felt that her ears were +tingling, and that her face was red;—"Archdeacon Grantly. His father +was bishop of the diocese."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Archdeacon Grantly lives at Plumstead."</p> + +<p>"I was staying once with an old friend of mine, Mr Thorne of +Ullathorne, who lives close to Plumstead, and saw a good deal of +them. I remember thinking Henry Grantly was a very nice lad. He +married afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Yes sir; but his wife is dead now, and he has got a little +girl,—Edith Grantly."</p> + +<p>"Is there no other child?"</p> + +<p>"No sir; only Edith."</p> + +<p>"You know him, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes sir; I know Major Grantly,—and Edith. I never saw Archdeacon +Grantly."</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear, you never saw a very famous pillar of the Church. I +remember when people used to talk a great deal about Archdeacon +Grantly; but when his time came to be made a bishop, he was not +sufficiently new-fangled; and so he got passed by. He is much better +off as he is, I should say. Bishops have to work very hard, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Do they, sir?"</p> + +<p>"So they tell me. And the archdeacon is a wealthy man. So Henry +Grantly has got an only daughter? I hope she is a nice child, for I +remember liking him well."</p> + +<p>"She is a very nice child, indeed Mr Dale. She could not be nicer. +And she is so lovely." Then Mr Dale looked into his young companion's +face, struck by the sudden animation of her words, and perceived for +the first time that she was very pretty.</p> + +<p>After this Grace became accustomed to the strangeness of the faces +round her, and managed to eat her dinner without much perturbation of +spirit. When after dinner the squire proposed to her that they should +drink the health of her papa and mamma, she was almost reduced to +tears, and yet she liked him for doing it. It was terrible to her to +have them mentioned, knowing as she did that every one who mentioned +them must be aware of their misery,—for the misfortune of her father +had become notorious in the country; but it was almost more terrible +to her that no allusion should be made to them; for then she would be +driven to think that her father was regarded as a man whom the world +could not afford to mention. "Papa and mamma," she just murmured, +raising her glass to her lips. "Grace, dear," said Lily from across +the table, "here's papa and mamma, and the young man at Marlborough +who is carrying everything before him." "Yes; we won't forget the +young man at Marlborough," said the squire. Grace felt this to be +good-natured, because her brother at Marlborough was the one bright +spot in her family,—and she was comforted.</p> + +<p>"And we will drink the health of my friend, John Eames," said Lady +Julia.</p> + +<p>"John Eames' health," said the squire, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Johnny's health," said Mrs Dale; but Mrs Dale's voice was not very +brisk.</p> + +<p>"John's health," said Dr Crofts and Mrs Crofts, in a breath.</p> + +<p>"Here's the health of Johnny Eames," said Lily; and her voice was the +clearest and the boldest of them all. But she made up her mind that +if Lady Julia could not be induced to spare her for the future, she +and Lady Julia must quarrel. "No one can understand," she said to her +mother that evening, "how dreadful it is,—this being constantly told +before one's family and friends that one ought to marry a certain +young man."</p> + +<p>"She didn't say that, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I should much prefer that she should, for then I could get up on my legs +and answer her off the reel. Of course everybody there understood +what she meant,—including old John Bates, who stood at the sideboard +and coolly drank the toast himself."</p> + +<p>"He always does that to all the family toasts on Christmas Day. Your +uncle likes it."</p> + +<p>"That wasn't a family toast, and John Bates had no right to drink +it."</p> + +<p>After dinner they all played cards,—a round game,—and the squire +put in the stakes. "Now, Grace," said Lily, "you are the visitor and +you must win, or else Uncle Christopher won't be happy. He always +likes a young lady visitor to win."</p> + +<p>"But I never played a game of cards in my life."</p> + +<p>"Go and sit next to him and he'll teach you. Uncle Christopher, won't +you teach Grace Crawley? She never saw a Pope Joan board in her life +before."</p> + +<p>"Come here, my dear, and sit next to me. Dear, dear, dear; fancy +Henry Grantly having a little girl. What a handsome lad he was. And +it seems only yesterday." If it was so that Lily had said a word to +her uncle about Grace and the major, the old squire had become on a +sudden very sly. Be that as it may, Grace Crawley thought that he was +a pleasant old man; and though, while talking to him about Edith, she +persisted in not learning to play Pope Joan, so that he could not +contrive that she should win, nevertheless the squire took to her +very kindly, and told her to come up with Lily and see him sometimes +while she was staying at the Small House. The squire in speaking of +his sister-in-law's cottage always called it the Small House.</p> + +<p>"Only think of my winning," said Lady Julia, drawing together her +wealth. "Well, I'm sure I want it bad enough, for I don't at all know +whether I've got any income of my own. It's all John Eames's fault, +my dear, for he won't go and make those people settle it in Lincoln's +Inn Fields." Poor Lily, who was standing on the hearth-rug, touched +her mother's arm. She knew Johnny's name was lugged in with reference +to Lady Julia's money altogether for her benefit. "I wonder whether +she ever had a Johnny of her own," she said to her mother, "and if +so, whether she liked it when her friends sent the town-crier round +to talk about him."</p> + +<p>"She means to be good-natured," said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>"Of course she does. But it is such a pity when people won't +understand."</p> + +<p>"My uncle didn't bite you after all, Grace," said Lily to her friend +as they were going home at night, by the pathway which led from the +garden of one house to the garden of the other.</p> + +<p>"I like Mr Dale very much," said Grace. "He was very kind to me."</p> + +<p>"There is some queer-looking animal of whom they say that he is +better than he looks, and I always think of that saying when I think +of my uncle."</p> + +<p>"For shame, Lily," said her mother. "Your uncle, for his age, is as +good a looking a man as I know. And he always looks like just what he +is,—an English gentleman."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to say a word against his dear old face and figure, +mamma; but his heart, and mind, and general disposition, as they come +out in experience and days of trial, are so much better than the +samples of them which he puts out on the counter for men and women to +judge by. He wears well, and he washes well,—if you know what I +mean, Grace."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I think I know what you mean."</p> + +<p>"The Apollos of the world,—I don't mean in outward looks, +mamma,—but the Apollos in heart, the men,—and the women too,—who +are so full of feeling, so soft-natured, so kind, who never say a +cross word, who never get out of bed on the wrong side in the +morning,—it so often turns out that they won't wash."</p> + +<p>Such was the expression of Miss Lily Dale's experience.</p> + + +<p><a name="c17" id="c17"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII</h3> +<h3>Mr Crawley Is Summoned to Barchester<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The scene which occurred in Hogglestock church on the Sunday after Mr +Thumble's first visit to that parish had not been described with +absolute accuracy either by the archdeacon in his letter to his son, +or by Mrs Thorne. There had been no footman from the palace in +attendance on Mr Thumble, nor had there been a battle with the +brickmakers; neither had Mr Thumble been put under the pump. But Mr +Thumble had gone over, taking his gown and surplice with him, on the +Sunday morning, and had intimated to Mr Crawley his intention of +performing the service. Mr Crawley, in answer to this, had assured Mr +Thumble that he would not be allowed to open his mouth in the church; +and Mr Thumble, not seeing his way to any further successful action, +had contented himself with attending the services in his surplice, +making thereby a silent protest that he, and not Mr Crawley, ought to +have been in the reading-desk and the pulpit.</p> + +<p>When Mr Trumble reported himself and his failure at the palace, he +strove hard to avoid seeing Mrs Proudie, but not successfully. He +knew something of the palace habits, and did manage to reach the +bishop alone on the Sunday evening, justifying himself to his +lordship for such an interview by the remarkable circumstances of the +case and the importance of his late mission. Mrs Proudie always went +to church on Sunday evenings, making a point of hearing three +services and three sermons every Sunday of her life. On week-days she +seldom heard any, having an idea that week-day services were an +invention of the High Church enemy, and that they should therefore be +vehemently discouraged. Services on saints' days she regarded as rank +papacy, and had been known to accuse a clergyman's wife to her face, +of idolatry, because the poor lady had dated a letter, St John's Eve. +Mr Thumble, on this Sunday evening, was successful in finding the +bishop at home, and alone, but he was not lucky enough to get away +before Mrs Proudie returned. The bishop, perhaps, thought that the +story of the failure had better reach his wife's ears from Mr +Thumble's lips than from his own.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr Thumble?" said Mrs Proudie, walking into the study, armed +in her full Sunday-evening winter panoply, in which she had just +descended from her carriage. The church which Mrs Proudie attended in +the evening was nearly half a mile from the palace, and the coachman +and groom never got a holiday on Sunday night. She was gorgeous in a +dark brown silk dress of awful stiffness and terrible dimensions; and +on her shoulders she wore a short cloak of velvet and fur, very +handsome withal, but so swelling in its proportions on all sides as +necessarily to create more of dismay than of admiration in the mind +of any ordinary man. And her bonnet was a monstrous helmet with the +beaver up, displaying the awful face of the warrior, always ready for +combat, and careless to guard itself from attack. The large contorted +bows which she bore were as a grisly crest upon her casque, +beautiful, doubtless, but majestic and fear-compelling. In her hand +she carried her armour all complete, a prayer-book, a Bible, and a +book of hymns. These the footman had brought for her to the study +door, but she had thought fit to enter her husband's room with them +in her own custody.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr Thumble!" she said.</p> + +<p>Mr Thumble did not answer at once, thinking, probably, that the +bishop might choose to explain the circumstances. But, neither did +the bishop say anything.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr Thumble?" she said again; and then she stood looking at the +man who had failed so disastrously.</p> + +<p>"I have explained to the bishop," said he. "Mr Crawley has been +contumacious,—very contumacious indeed."</p> + +<p>"But you preached at Hogglestock?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, Mrs Proudie. Nor would it have been possible, unless I +had had the police to assist me."</p> + +<p>"Then you should have had the police. I never heard of anything so +mismanaged in all my life,—never in all my life." And she put her +books down on the study table, and turned herself round from Mr +Thumble towards the bishop. "If things go on like this, my lord," she +said, "your authority in the diocese will very soon be worth nothing +at all." It was not often that Mrs Proudie called her husband my +lord, but when she did do so, it was a sign that terrible times had +come;—times so terrible that the bishop would know that he must +either fight or fly. He would almost endure anything rather than +descend into the arena for the purpose of doing battle with his wife, +but occasions would come now and again when even the alternative of +flight was hardly left to him.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear—" began the bishop.</p> + +<p>"Am I to understand that this man has professed himself to be +altogether indifferent to the bishop's prohibition?" said Mrs +Proudie, interrupting her husband and addressing Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"Quite so. He seemed to think that the bishop had no lawful power in +the matter at all," said Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"Do you hear that, my lord?" said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"Nor have I any," said the bishop, almost weeping as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"No authority in your own diocese!"</p> + +<p>"None to silence a man merely by my own judgment. I thought, and +still think, that it was for this gentleman's own interest, as well +as for the credit of the Church, that some provision should be made +for his duties during his present,—present—difficulties."</p> + +<p>"Difficulties indeed! Everybody knows that the man has been a thief."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; I do not know it."</p> + +<p>"You never know anything, bishop."</p> + +<p>"I mean to say that I do not know it officially. Of course I have +heard the sad story; and though I hope it may not be +the<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"There is no doubt about its truth. All the world knows it. He has +stolen twenty pounds, and yet he is to be allowed to desecrate the +Church, and imperil the souls of the people!" The bishop got up from +his chair and began to walk backwards and forwards through the room +with short quick steps. "It only wants five days to Christmas Day," +continued Mrs Proudie, "and something must be done at once. I say +nothing as to the propriety or impropriety of his being out on bail, +as it is no affair of ours. When I heard that he had been bailed by a +beneficed clergyman of this diocese, of course I knew where to look +for the man who would act with so much impropriety. Of course I was +not surprised when I found that the person belonged to Framley. But, +as I have said before, that is no business of ours. I hope, Mr +Thumble, that the bishop will never be found interfering with the +ordinary laws of the land. I am very sure that he will never do so by +my advice. But when there comes a question of inhibiting a clergyman +who has committed himself as that clergyman unfortunately has done, +then I say that that clergyman ought to be inhibited." The bishop +walked up and down the room throughout the whole of this speech, but +gradually his steps became quicker, and his turns became shorter. +"And now here is Christmas Day upon us, and what is to be done?" With +these words Mrs Proudie finished her speech.</p> + +<p>"Mr Thumble," said the bishop, "perhaps you had better now retire. I +am very sorry that you should have had so thankless and so +disagreeable a task."</p> + +<p>"Why should Mr Thumble retire?" asked Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"I think it better," said the bishop. "Mr Thumble, good-night." Then +Mr Thumble did retire, and Mrs Proudie stood forth in her full +panoply of armour, silent and awful, with her helmet erect, and +vouchsafed no recognition whatever of the parting salutation with +which Mr Thumble greeted her. "My dear, the truth is, you do not +understand the matter," said the bishop, as soon as the door was +closed. "You do not know how limited is my power."</p> + +<p>"Bishop, I understand it a great deal better than some people; and I +understand also what is due to myself and the manner in which I ought +to be treated by you in the presence of the subordinate clergy of the +diocese. I shall not, however, remain here to be insulted in the +presence or in the absence of any one." Then the conquered amazon +collected together her weapons which she had laid upon the table, and +took her departure with majestic step, and not without the clang of +arms. The bishop, even when he was left alone, enjoyed for a few +moments the triumph of his victory.</p> + +<p>But then he was left so very much alone! When he looked round about +him upon his solitude after the departure of his wife, and remembered +that he should not see her again till he should encounter her on +ground that was all her own, he regretted his own success, and was +tempted to follow her and to apologise. He was unable to do anything +alone. He would not even know how to get his tea, as the very +servants would ask questions, if he were to do so unaccustomed a +thing as to order it to be brought up to him in his solitude. They +would tell him that Mrs Proudie was having her tea in her little +sitting-room upstairs, or else that the things were laid in the +drawing-room. He did wander forth to the latter apartment, hoping +that he might find his wife there; but the drawing-room was dark and +deserted, and so he wandered back again. It was a grand thing +certainly to have triumphed over his wife, and there was a crumb of +comfort in the thought that he had vindicated himself before Mr +Thumble; but the general result was not comforting, and he knew from +of old how short-lived his triumph would be.</p> + +<p>But wretched as he was during that evening he did employ himself with +some energy. After much thought he resolved that he would again write +to Mr Crawley, and summon him to appear at the palace. In doing this +he would at any rate be doing something. There would be action. And +though Mr Crawley would, as he thought, decline to obey the order, +something would be gained even by that disobedience. So he wrote his +summons,—sitting very comfortless and all alone on that Sunday +evening,—dating his letter, however, for the following +day:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Palace</span>,<br /> +December 20, 186––</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Reverend Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>I have just heard from Mr Thumble that you have declined +to accede to the advice which I thought it my duty to +tender to you as the bishop who has been set over you by +the Church, and that you yesterday insisted on what you +believed to be your right, to administer the services in +the parish church of Hogglestock. This has occasioned me +the deepest regret. It is, I think, unavailing that I +should further write to you my mind upon the subject, as I +possess such strong evidence that my written word will not +be respected by you. I have, therefore, no alternative now +but to invite you to come to me here; and this I do, +hoping that I may induce you to listen to that authority +which I cannot but suppose you acknowledge to be vested in +the office which I hold.</p> + +<p>I shall be glad to see you on to-morrow, Tuesday, as near +the hour of two as you can make it convenient to yourself +to be here, and I will take care to order that refreshment +will be provided for yourself and your horse.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind10">I am, Reverend +Sir,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12">&c &c &c,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Thos. +Barnum.</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"My dear," he said, when he did again encounter his wife that night, +"I have written to Mr Crawley, and I thought I might as well bring up +the copy of my letter."</p> + +<p>"I wash my hands of the whole affair," said Mrs Proudie—"of the +whole affair!"</p> + +<p>"But you will look at the letter?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. Why should I look at the letter? My word goes for +nothing. I have done what I could, but in vain. Now let us see how +you will manage it yourself."</p> + +<p>The bishop did not pass a comfortable night; but in the morning his +wife did read his letter, and after that things went a little +smoother with him. She was pleased to say that, considering all +things; seeing, as she could not help seeing, that the matter had +been dreadfully mismanaged, and that great weakness had been +displayed;—seeing that these faults had already been committed, +perhaps no better step could now be taken than that proposed in the +letter.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he will not come," said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"I think he will," said Mrs Proudie, "and I trust that we may be able +to convince him that obedience will be his best course. He will be +more humble-minded here than at Hogglestock." In saying this the lady +showed some knowledge of the general nature of clergymen and of the +world at large. She understood how much louder a cock can crow in its +own farmyard than elsewhere, and knew that episcopal authority, +backed by all the solemn awe of palatial grandeur, goes much further +than it will do when sent under the folds of an ordinary envelope. +But though she understood ordinary human nature, it may be that she +did not understand Mr Crawley's nature.</p> + +<p>But she was at any rate right in her idea as to Mr Crawley's +immediate reply. The palace groom who rode over to Hogglestock +returned with an immediate answer.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My +Lord</span>—[said Mr Crawley]</p> + +<p>I will obey your lordship's summons, and, unless +impediments should arise, I will wait upon your lordship +at the hour you name to-morrow. I will not trespass on +your hospitality. For myself, I rarely break bread in any +house but my own; and as to the horse, I have none.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">I have the honour to be,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12">My lord, &c &c,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Josiah +Crawley</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"Of course I shall go," he had said to his wife as soon as he had had +time to read the letter, and make known to her the contents. "I shall +go if it be possible for me to get there. I think that I am bound to +comply with the bishop's wishes in so much as that."</p> + +<p>"But how will you get there, Josiah?"</p> + +<p>"I will walk,—with the Lord's aid."</p> + +<p>Now Hogglestock was fifteen miles from Barchester, and Mr Crawley +was, as his wife well knew, by no means fitted in his present state +for great physical exertion. But from the tone in which he had +replied to her, she well knew that it would not avail for her to +remonstrate at the moment. He had walked more than thirty miles in a +day since they had been living at Hogglestock, and she did not doubt +but that it might be possible for him to do it again. Any scheme, +which she might be able to devise for saving him from so terrible a +journey in the middle of winter, must be pondered over silently, and +brought to bear, if not slyly, at least deftly, and without +discussion. She made no reply therefore when he declared that on the +following day he would walk to Barchester and back,—with the Lord's +aid; nor did she see, or ask to see the note which he sent to the +bishop. When the messenger was gone, Mr Crawley was all alert, +looking forward with evident glee to his encounter with the +bishop,—snorting like a racehorse at the expected triumph of the +coming struggle. And he read much Greek with Jane on that afternoon, +pouring into her young ears, almost with joyous rapture, his +appreciation of the glory and the pathos and the humanity, as also of +the awful tragedy of the story of Œdipus. His very soul was on +fire at the idea of clutching the weak bishop in his hand, and +crushing him with his strong grasp.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon Mrs Crawley slipped out to a neighbouring farmer's +wife, and returned in an hour's time with a little story which she +did not tell with any appearance of eager satisfaction. She had +learned well what were the little tricks necessary to the carrying of +such a matter as that which she had now in hand. Mr Mangle, the +farmer, as it happened, was going to-morrow morning in his tax-cart +as far as Framley Mill, and would be delighted if Mr Crawley would +take a seat. He must remain at Framley the best part of the +afternoon, and hoped that Mr Crawley would take a seat back again. +Now Framley Mill was only half a mile off the direct road to +Barchester, and was almost half-way from Hogglestock parsonage to the +city. This would, at any rate, bring the walk within a practicable +distance. Mr Crawley was instantly placed upon his guard, like an +animal that sees the bait and suspects the trap. Had he been told +that farmer Mangle was going all the way to Barchester, nothing would +have induced him to get into the cart. He would have felt sure that +farmer Mangle had been persuaded to pity him in his poverty and his +strait, and he would sooner have started to walk to London than have +put a foot upon the step of the cart. But this lift half way did look +to him as though it were really fortuitous. His wife could hardly +have been cunning enough to persuade the farmer to go to Framley, +conscious that the trap would have been suspected had the bait been +made more full. But I fear,—I fear the dear good woman had been thus +cunning,—had understood how far the trap might be baited, and had +thus succeeded in catching her prey.</p> + +<p>On the following morning he consented to get into farmer Mangle's +cart, and was driven as far as Framley Mill. "I wouldn't think nowt, +your reverence, of running you over into Barchester,—that I +wouldn't. The powny is so mortial good," said farmer Mangle in his +foolish good-nature.</p> + +<p>"And how about your business here?" said Mr Crawley. The farmer +scratched his head, remembering all Mrs Crawley's injunctions, and +awkwardly acknowledged that to be sure his own business with the +miller was very pressing. Then Mr Crawley descended, terribly +suspicious, and went on his journey.</p> + +<p>"Anyways, your reverence will call for me coming back?" said farmer +Mangle. But Mr Crawley would make no promise. He bade the farmer not +wait for him. If they chanced to meet together on the road he might +get up again. If the man really had business at Framley, how could he +have offered to go on to Barchester? Were they deceiving him? The +wife of his bosom had deceived him in such matters before now. But +his trouble in this respect was soon dissipated by the pride of his +anticipated triumph over the bishop. He took great glory from the +thought that he would go before the bishop with dirty boots,—with +boots necessarily dirty,—with rusty pantaloons, that he would be hot +and mud-stained with his walk, hungry, and an object to be wondered +at by all who should see him, because of the misfortunes which had +been unworthily heaped upon his head; whereas the bishop would be +sleek and clean and well-fed,—pretty with all the prettinesses that +are becoming to a bishop's outward man. And he, Mr Crawley, would be +humble, whereas the bishop would be very proud. And the bishop would +be in his own arm-chair,—the cock in his own farmyard, while he, Mr +Crawley, would be seated afar off, in the cold extremity of the room, +with nothing of outward circumstances to assist him,—a man called +thither to undergo censure. And yet he would take the bishop in his +grasp and crush him,—crush him,—crush him! As he thought of this he +walked quickly through the mud, and put out his long arm and his +great hand, far before him out into the air, and, there and then, he +crushed the bishop in his imagination. Yes, indeed! He thought it +very doubtful whether the bishop would ever send for him a second +time. As all this passed through his mind, he forgot his wife's +cunning, and farmer Mangle's sin, and for the moment he was happy.</p> + +<p>As he turned a corner round by Lord Lufton's park paling, who should +he meet but his old friend Mr Robarts, the parson of Framley,—the +parson who had committed the sin of being bail for him,—the sin, +that is, according to Mrs Proudie's view of the matter. He was +walking with his hand still stretched out,—still crushing the +bishop, when Mr Robarts was close upon him.</p> + +<p>"What, Crawley! upon my word I am very glad to see you; you are +coming up to me, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mr Robarts; no, not to-day. The bishop has summoned me to +his presence, and I am on my road to Barchester."</p> + +<p>"But how are you going?"</p> + +<p>"I shall walk."</p> + +<p>"Walk to Barchester. Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"I hope not quite impossible, Mr Robarts. I trust I shall get as far +before two o'clock; but to do so I must be on my road." Then he +showed signs of a desire to go upon his way without further parley.</p> + +<p>"But, Crawley, do let me send you over. There is the horse and gig +doing nothing."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mr Robarts; no. I should prefer to walk to-day."</p> + +<p>"And you have walked from Hogglestock?"</p> + +<p>"No;—not so. A neighbour coming hither, who happened to have +business at your mill,—he brought me so far in his cart. The walk +home will be nothing,—nothing. I shall enjoy it. Good morning, Mr +Robarts."</p> + +<p>But Mr Robarts thought of the dirty road, and of the bishop's +presence, and of his own ideas of what would be becoming for a +clergyman,—and persevered. "You will find the lanes so very muddy; +and our bishop, you know, is apt to notice such things. Do be +persuaded."</p> + +<p>"Notice what things?" demanded Mr Crawley, in an indignant tone.</p> + +<p>"He, or perhaps she rather, will say how dirty your shoes were when +you came to the palace."</p> + +<p>"If he, or she, can find nothing unclean about me but my shoes, let +them say their worst. I shall be very indifferent. I have long +ceased, Mr Robarts, to care much what any man or woman may say about +my shoes. Good morning." Then he stalked on, clutching and crushing +in his hand the bishop, and the bishop's wife, and the whole +diocese,—and all the Church of England. Dirty shoes, indeed! Whose +was the fault that there were in the church so many feet soiled by +unmerited poverty, and so many hands soiled by undeserved wealth? If +the bishop did not like his shoes, let the bishop dare to tell him +so! So he walked on through the thick of the mud, by no means picking +his way.</p> + +<p>He walked fast, and he found himself in the close half an hour before +the time named by the bishop. But on no account would he have rung +the palace bell one minute before two o'clock. So he walked up and +down under the towers of the cathedral, and cooled himself, and +looked up at the pleasant plate-glass in the windows of the house of +his friend the dean, and told himself how, in their college days, he +and the dean had been quite equal,—quite equal, except that by the +voices of all qualified judges in the university, he, Mr Crawley, had +been acknowledged to be the riper scholar. And now the Mr Arabin of +those days was Dean of Barchester,—travelling abroad luxuriously at +this moment for his delight, while he, Crawley, was perpetual curate +at Hogglestock, and had now walked into Barchester at the command of +the bishop, because he was suspected of having stolen twenty pounds! +When he had fully imbued his mind with the injustice of all this, his +time was up, and he walked boldly to the bishop's gate, and boldly +rang the bishop's bell.</p> + + +<p><a name="c18" id="c18"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII</h3> +<h3>The Bishop of Barchester Is Crushed<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Who inquires why it is that a little greased flour rubbed in among +the hair on a footman's head,—just one dab here and another +there,—gives such a tone of high life to the family? And seeing that +the thing is so easily done, why do not more people attempt it? The +tax on hair-powder is but thirteen shillings a year. It may, indeed, +be that the slightest dab in the world justifies the wearer in +demanding hot meat three times a day, and wine at any rate on +Sundays. I think, however, that a bishop's wife may enjoy the +privilege without such heavy attendant expense; otherwise the man who +opened the bishop's door to Mr Crawley would hardly have been so +ornamented.</p> + +<p>The man asked for a card. "My name is Mr Crawley," said our friend. +"The bishop has desired me to come to him at this hour. Will you be +pleased to tell him that I am here." The man again asked for a card. +"I am not bound to carry with me my name printed on a ticket," said +Mr Crawley. "If you cannot remember it, give me pen and paper, and I +will write it." The servant, somewhat awed by the stranger's manner, +brought the pen and paper, and Mr Crawley wrote his +name:—<br /> </p> + + +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">The Rev Josiah Crawley, +M.A.,</span><br /> +<i>Perpetual Curate of Hogglestock</i><br /> </p> +</div> + + +<p>He was then ushered into a waiting-room, but, to his disappointment, +was not kept there waiting long. Within three minutes he was ushered +into the bishop's study, and into the presence of the two great +luminaries of the diocese. He was at first somewhat disconcerted by +finding Mrs Proudie in the room. In the imaginary conversation with +the bishop which he had been preparing on the road, he had conceived +that the bishop would be attended by a chaplain, and he had suited +his words to the joint discomfiture of the bishop and of the lower +clergyman;—but now the line of his battle must be altered. This was +no doubt an injury, but he trusted to his courage and readiness to +enable him to surmount it. He had left his hat behind him in the +waiting room, but he kept his old short cloak still upon his +shoulders; and when he entered the bishop's room his hands and arms +were hid beneath it. There was something lowly in this constrained +gait. It showed at least that he had no idea of being asked to shake +hands with the August persons he might meet. And his head was +somewhat bowed, though his great, bald, broad forehead showed itself +so prominent, that neither the bishop nor Mrs Proudie could drop it +from their sight during the whole interview. He was a man who when +seen could hardly be forgotten. The deep angry remonstrant eyes, the +shaggy eyebrows, telling tales of frequent anger,—of anger frequent +but generally silent,—the repressed indignation of the habitual +frown, the long nose and large powerful mouth, the deep furrows on +the cheek, and the general look of thought and suffering, all +combined to make the appearance of the man remarkable, and to +describe to the beholders at once his true character. No one ever on +seeing Mr Crawley took him to be a happy man, or a weak man, or an +ignorant man, or a wise man.</p> + +<p>"You are very punctual, Mr Crawley," said the bishop. Mr Crawley +simply bowed his head, still keeping his hands beneath his cloak. +"Will you not take a chair nearer to the fire?" Mr Crawley had not +seated himself, but had placed himself in front of a chair at the +extreme end of the room,—resolved that he would not use it unless he +were duly asked.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my lord," he said. "I am warm with walking, and, if you +please, will avoid the fire."</p> + +<p>"You have not walked, Mr Crawley?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord; I have been walking."</p> + +<p>"Not from Hogglestock!"</p> + +<p>Now this was a matter which Mr Crawley certainly did not mean to +discuss with the bishop. It might be well for the bishop to demand +his presence in the palace, but it could be no part of the bishop's +duty to inquire how he got there. "That, my lord, is a matter of no +moment," said he. "I am glad at any rate that I have been enabled to +obey your lordship's order in coming hither on this morning."</p> + +<p>Hitherto Mrs Proudie had not said a word. She stood back in the room, +near the fire,—more backward a good deal than she was accustomed to +do when clergymen made their ordinary visits. On such occasions she +would come forward and shake hands with them graciously,—graciously, +even if proudly; but she had felt that she must do nothing of that +kind now; there must be no shaking hands with a man who had stolen a +cheque for twenty pounds! It might probably be necessary to keep Mr +Crawley at a distance, and therefore she had remained in the +background. But Mr Crawley seemed to be disposed to keep himself in +the background, and therefore she could speak. "I hope your wife and +children are well, Mr Crawley," she said.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, madam, my children are well, and Mrs Crawley suffers no +special ailment at present."</p> + +<p>"That is much to be thankful for, Mr Crawley." Whether he were or +were not thankful for such mercies as these was no business of the +bishop or of the bishop's wife. That was between him and his God. So +he would not even bow to this civility, but sat with his head erect, +and with a great frown on his heavy brow.</p> + +<p>Then the bishop rose from his chair to speak, intending to take up a +position on the rug. But as he did so Mr Crawley, who had seated +himself on an intimation that he was expected to sit down, rose also, +and the bishop found that he would thus lose his expected vantage. +"Will you not be seated, Mr Crawley?" said the bishop. Mr Crawley +smiled, but stood his ground. Then the bishop returned to his +arm-chair, and Mr Crawley also sat down again. "Mr Crawley," began +the bishop, "this matter which came the other day before the +magistrates at Silverbridge has been a most unfortunate affair. It +has given me, I can assure you, the most sincere pain."</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley had made up his mind how far the bishop should be allowed +to go without a rebuke. He had told himself that it would only be +natural, and would not be unbecoming, that the bishop should allude +to the meeting of the magistrates and to the alleged theft, and that +therefore such allusions should be endured with patient humility. +And, moreover, the more rope he gave the bishop, the more likely the +bishop would be to entangle himself. It certainly was Mr Crawley's +wish that the bishop should entangle himself. He, therefore, replied +very meekly, "It has been most unfortunate, my lord."</p> + +<p>"I have felt for Mrs Crawley very deeply," said Mrs Proudie. Mr +Crawley had now made up his mind that as long as it was possible he +would ignore the presence of Mrs Proudie altogether; and, therefore, +he made no sign that he had heard the latter remark.</p> + +<p>"It has been most unfortunate," continued the bishop. "I have never +before had a clergyman in my diocese placed in so distressing a +position."</p> + +<p>"That is a matter of opinion, my lord," said Mr Crawley, who at that +moment thought of a crisis which had come in the life of another +clergyman in the diocese of Barchester, with the circumstances of +which he had by chance been made acquainted.</p> + +<p>"Exactly," said the bishop. "And I am expressing my opinion." Mr +Crawley, who understood fighting, did not think that the time had yet +come for striking a blow, so he simply bowed again. "A most +unfortunate position, Mr Crawley," continued the bishop. "Far be it +from me to express an opinion on the matter, which will have to come +before a jury of your countrymen. It is enough for me to know that +the magistrates assembled at Silverbridge, gentlemen to whom no doubt +you must be known, as most of them live in your neighbourhood, have +heard evidence upon the subject<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Most convincing evidence," said Mrs Proudie, interrupting her +husband. Mr Crawley's black brow became a little blacker as he heard +the word, but still he ignored the woman. He not only did not speak, +but did not turn his eye upon her.</p> + +<p>"They have heard the evidence on the subject," continued the bishop, +"and they have thought it proper to refer the decision as to your +innocence or your guilt to a jury of your countrymen."</p> + +<p>"And they were right," said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"Very possibly. I don't deny it. Probably," said the bishop, whose +eloquence was somewhat disturbed by Mr Crawley's ready acquiescence.</p> + +<p>"Of course they were right," said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"At any rate it is so," said the bishop. "You are in the position of +a man amenable to the criminal laws of the land."</p> + +<p>"There are no criminal laws, my lord," said Mr Crawley; "but to such +laws as there are we are all amenable,—your lordship and I alike."</p> + +<p>"But you are so in a very particular way. I do not wish to remind you +what might be your condition now, but for the interposition of +private friends."</p> + +<p>"I should be in the condition of a man not guilty before the +law;—guiltless, as far as the law goes,—but kept in durance, not +for the faults of his own, but because otherwise, by reason of laches +in the police, his presence at the assizes might not be ensured. In +such a position a man's reputation is made to hang for awhile on the +trust which some friends or neighbours may have in it. I do not say +that the test is a good one."</p> + +<p>"You would have been put in prison, Mr Crawley, because the +magistrates were of opinion that you had taken Mr Soames's cheque," +said Mrs Proudie. On this occasion he did look at her. He turned one +glance upon her from under his eyebrows, but he did not speak.</p> + +<p>"With all that I have nothing to do," said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"Nothing whatever, my lord," said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"But, bishop, I think that you have," said Mrs Proudie. "The judgment +formed by the magistrates as to the conduct of one of your clergymen +makes it imperative upon you to act in the matter."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear, yes; I am coming to that. What Mrs Proudie says is +perfectly true. I have been constrained most unwillingly to take +action in this matter. It is undoubtedly the fact that you must at +the next assizes surrender yourself at the court-house yonder, to be +tried for this offence against the laws."</p> + +<p>"That is true. If I be alive, my lord, and have strength sufficient, +I shall be there."</p> + +<p>"You must be there," said Mrs Proudie. "The police will look to that, +Mr Crawley." She was becoming very angry in that the man would not +answer her a word. On this occasion again he did not even look at +her.</p> + +<p>"Yes; you will be there," said the bishop. "Now that is, to say the +least of it, an unseemly position for a beneficed clergyman."</p> + +<p>"You said before, my lord, that it was an unfortunate position, and +the word, methinks, was better chosen."</p> + +<p>"It is very unseemly, very unseemly indeed," said Mrs Proudie; +"nothing could possibly be more unseemly. The bishop might very +properly have used a much stronger word."</p> + +<p>"Under these circumstances," continued the bishop, "looking to the +welfare of your parish, to the welfare of the diocese, and allow me +to say, Mr Crawley, to the welfare of yourself +also<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"And especially the souls of the people," said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>The bishop shook his head. It is hard to be impressively eloquent +when one is interrupted at every best turned period, even by a +supporting voice. "Yes;—and looking of course to the religious +interests of your people, Mr Crawley, I came to the conclusion that +it would be expedient that you should cease your ministrations for +awhile." The bishop paused, and Mr Crawley bowed his head. "I, +therefore, sent over to you a gentleman with whom I am well +acquainted, Mr Thumble, with a letter from myself, in which I +endeavoured to impress upon you, without the use of any severe +language, what my convictions were."</p> + +<p>"Severe words are often the best mercy," said Mrs Proudie. Mr Crawley +had raised his hand, with his finger out, preparatory to answering +the bishop. But as Mrs Proudie had spoken he dropped his finger and +was silent.</p> + +<p>"Mr Thumble brought me back your written reply," continued the +bishop, "by which I was grieved to find that you were not willing to +submit yourself to my counsel in the matter."</p> + +<p>"I was most unwilling, my lord. Submission to authority is at times a +duty;—and at times opposition to authority is a duty also."</p> + +<p>"Opposition to just authority cannot be a duty, Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"Opposition to usurped authority is an imperative duty," said Mr +Crawley.</p> + +<p>"And who is to be the judge?" demanded Mrs Proudie. Then there was +silence for a while; when, as Mr Crawley made no reply, the lady +repeated her question. "Will you be pleased to answer my question, +sir? Who, in such a case, is to be the judge?" But Mr Crawley did not +please to answer the question. "The man is obstinate," said Mrs +Proudie.</p> + +<p>"I had better proceed," said the bishop. "Mr Thumble brought me back +your reply, which grieved me greatly."</p> + +<p>"It was contumacious and indecent," said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>The bishop again shook his head and looked so utterly miserable that +a smile came across Mr Crawley's face. After all, others besides +himself had their troubles and trials. Mrs Proudie saw and understood +the smile, and became more angry than ever. She drew her chair close +to the table, and began to fidget with her fingers among the papers. +She had never before encountered a clergyman so contumacious, so +indecent, so unreverend,—so upsetting. She had had to deal with men +difficult to manage;—the archdeacon for instance; but the archdeacon +had never been so impertinent to her as this man. She had quarrelled +once openly with a chaplain of her husband's, a clergyman whom she +herself had introduced to her husband, and who had treated her very +badly;—but not so badly, not with such unscrupulous violence, as she +was now encountering from this ill-clothed beggarly man, this +perpetual curate, with his dirty broken boots, this already +half-convicted thief! Such was her idea of Mr Crawley's conduct to +her, while she was fingering the papers,—simply because Mr Crawley +would not speak to her.</p> + +<p>"I forget where I was," said the bishop. "Oh, Mr Thumble came back, +and I received your letter;—of course I received it. And I was +surprised to learn from that, that in spite of what had occurred at +Silverbridge, you were still anxious to continue the usual Sunday +ministrations in your church."</p> + +<p>"I was determined that I would do my duty at Hogglestock, as long as +I might be left there to do it," said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"Duty!" said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"Just a moment, my dear," said the bishop. "When Sunday came, I had +no alternative but to send Mr Thumble over again to Hogglestock. It +occurred to us,—to me and Mrs +Proudie,<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I will tell Mr Crawley just now what has occurred to me," said Mrs +Proudie.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—just so. And I am sure that he will take it in good part. It +occurred to me, Mr Crawley, that your first letter might have been +written in haste."</p> + +<p>"It was written in haste, my lord; your messenger was waiting."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—just so. Well; so I sent him again, hoping that he might be +accepted as a messenger of peace. It was a most disagreeable mission +for any gentleman, Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"Most disagreeable, my lord."</p> + +<p>"And you refused him permission to obey the instructions which I had +given him! You would not let him read from your desk, or preach from +your pulpit."</p> + +<p>"Had I been Mr Thumble," said Mrs Proudie, "I would have read from +that desk and I would have preached from that pulpit."</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley waited for a moment, thinking that the bishop might +perhaps speak again; but as he did not, but sat expectant as though +he had finished his discourse, and now expected a reply, Mr Crawley +got up from his seat and drew near to the table. "My lord," he began, +"it has all been just as you have said. I did answer your first +letter in haste."</p> + +<p>"The more shame for you," said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"And therefore, for aught I know, my letter to your lordship may be +so worded as to need some apology."</p> + +<p>"Of course it needs an apology," said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"But for the matter of it, my lord, no apology can be made, nor is +any needed. I did refuse your messenger permission to perform the +services of my church, and if you send twenty more, I shall refuse +them all,—till the time may come when it will be your lordship's +duty, in accordance with the laws of the Church,—as borne out and +backed by the laws of the land, to provide during my constrained +absence for the spiritual wants of those poor people at Hogglestock."</p> + +<p>"Poor people, indeed," said Mrs Proudie. "Poor wretches!"</p> + +<p>"And, my lord, it may well be, that it shall soon be your lordship's +duty to take due and legal steps for depriving me of my benefice at +Hogglestock;—nay, probably, for silencing me altogether as to the +exercise of my sacred profession!"</p> + +<p>"Of course it will, sir. Your gown will be taken from you," said Mrs +Proudie. The bishop was looking with all his eyes up at the great +forehead and great eyebrows of the man, and was so fascinated by the +power that was exercised over him by the other man's strength that he +hardly now noticed his wife.</p> + +<p>"It may well be so," continued Mr Crawley. "The circumstances are +strong against me; and, though your lordship has altogether +misunderstood the nature of the duty performed by the magistrates in +sending my case for trial,—although, as it seems to me, you have +come to conclusions in this matter in ignorance of the very theory of +our laws<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Sir!" said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"Yet I can foresee the probability that a jury will may discover me +to have been guilty of theft."</p> + +<p>"Of course the jury will do," said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"Should such verdict be given, then, my lord, your interference will +be legal, proper, and necessary. And you will find that, even if it +be within my power to oppose obstacles to your lordship's authority, +I will oppose no such obstacle. There is, I believe, no appeal in +criminal cases."</p> + +<p>"None at all," said Mrs Proudie. "There is no appeal against your +bishop. You should have learned that before."</p> + +<p>"But till that time shall come, my lord, I shall hold my own at +Hogglestock as you hold your own here at Barchester. Nor have you +more power to turn me out of my pulpit by your mere voice, than I +have to turn you out of your throne by mine. If you doubt me, my +lord, your lordship's ecclesiastical court is open to you. Try it +there."</p> + +<p>"You defy us, then?" said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"My lord, I grant your authority as bishop is great, but even a +bishop can only act as the law allows him."</p> + +<p>"God forbid that I should do more," said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"Sir, you will find that your wicked threats will fall back upon your +own head," said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"Peace, woman," Mr Crawley said, addressing her at last. The bishop +jumped out of his chair at hearing the wife of his bosom called a +woman. But he jumped rather in admiration than in anger. He had +already begun to perceive that Mr Crawley was a man who had better be +left to take care of the souls at Hogglestock, at any rate till the +trial should come on.</p> + +<p>"Woman!" said Mrs Proudie, rising to her feet as though she really +intended some personal encounter.</p> + +<p>"Madam," said Mr Crawley, "you should not interfere in these matters. +You simply debase you husband's high office. The distaff were more +fitting for you. My lord, good morning." And before either of them +could speak again, he was out of the room, and through the hall, and +beyond the gate, and standing beneath the towers of the cathedral. +Yes, he had, he thought, in truth crushed the bishop. He had +succeeded in crumpling the bishop up within the clutch of his fist.</p> + +<p>He started in a spirit of triumph to walk back on his road towards +Hogglestock. He did not think of the long distance before him for the +first hour of his journey. He had had his victory, and the +remembrance of that braced his nerves and gave elasticity to his +sinews, and he went stalking along the road with rapid strides, +muttering to himself from time to time as he went along some word +about Mrs Proudie and her distaff. Mr Thumble would not, he thought, +come to him again,—not, at any rate, till the assizes were drawing +near. And he had resolved what he would do then. When the day of his +trial was near, he would himself write to the bishop, and beg that +provision might be made for his church, in the event of the verdict +going against him. His friend, Dean Arabin, was to be home before +that time, and the idea had occurred to him of asking the dean to see +to this; but now the other would be the more independent course, and +the better. And there was a matter as to which he was not altogether +well pleased with the dean, although he was so conscious of his own +peculiarities as to know that he could hardly trust himself for a +judgment. But, at any rate, he would apply to the bishop,—to the +bishop whom he had just left prostrate in his palace,—when the time +of his trial should be close at hand.</p> + +<p>Full of such thoughts as these he went along almost gaily, nor felt +the fatigue of the road till he had covered the first five miles out +of Barchester. It was nearly four o'clock, and the thick gloom of the +winter evening was making itself felt. And then he began to be +fatigued. He had not as yet eaten since he had left his home in the +morning, and he now pulled a crust out of his pocket and leaned +against a gate as he crunched it. There were still ten miles before +him, and he knew that such an addition to the work he had already +done would task him very severely. Farmer Mangle had told him that he +would not leave Framley Mill till five, and he had got time to reach +Framley Mill by that time. But he had said that he would not return +to Framley Mill, and he remembered his suspicion that his wife and +farmer Mangle between them had cozened him. No; he would persevere +and walk,—walk, though he should drop upon the road. He was now +nearer fifty then forty years of age, and hardships as well as time +had told upon him. He knew that though his strength was good for the +commencement of a hard day's work, it would not hold out for him as +it used to do. He knew that the last four miles in the dark night +would be very sad with him. But still he persevered, endeavouring, as +he went, to cherish himself with the remembrance of his triumph.</p> + +<p>He passed the turning going down to Framley with courage, but when he +came to the further turning, by which the cart would return from +Framley to the Hogglestock road, he looked wistfully down the road +for farmer Mangle. But farmer Mangle was still at the Mill, waiting +in expectation that Mr Crawley might come to him. But the poor +traveller paused here barely for a minute, and then went on, +stumbling through the mud, striking his ill-covered feet against the +rough stones in the dark, sweating in his weakness, almost tottering +at times, and calculating whether his remaining strength would serve +to carry him home. He had almost forgotten the bishop and his wife +before at last he grasped the wicket gate leading to his own door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, here is papa!"</p> + +<p>"But where is the cart? I did not hear the wheels," said Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, I think papa is ill." Then the wife took her drooping +husband by both arms and strove to look him in the face. "He has +walked all the way, and he is ill," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, I am very tired, but not ill. Let me sit down, and give +me some bread and tea, and I shall recover myself." Then Mrs Crawley, +from some secret hoard, got him a small modicum of spirits, and gave +him meat and tea, and he was docile; and, obeying her behests, +allowed himself to be taken to his bed.</p> + +<p>"I do not think the bishop will send for me again," he said, as she +tucked the clothes around him.</p> + + +<p><a name="c19" id="c19"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX</h3> +<h3>Where Did It Come From?<br /> </h3> + + +<p>When Christmas morning came no emissary from the bishop appeared at +Hogglestock to interfere with the ordinary performance of the day's +services. "I think we need fear no further disturbance," Mr Crawley +said to his wife,—and there was no further disturbance.</p> + +<p>On the day after his walk from Framley to Barchester, and from +Barchester back to Hogglestock, Mr Crawley had risen not much the +worse for his labour, and had gradually given to his wife a full +account of what had taken place. "A poor weak man," he said, speaking +of the bishop. "A poor weak creature, and much to be pitied."</p> + +<p>"I have always heard that she is a violent woman."</p> + +<p>"Very violent, and very ignorant; and most intrusive withal."</p> + +<p>"And you did not answer her a word?"</p> + +<p>"At last my forbearance with her broke down, and I bade her mind her +distaff."</p> + +<p>"What;—really? Did you say those words to her?"</p> + +<p>"Nay; as for my exact words I cannot remember them. I was thinking +more of the words with which it might be fitting that I should answer +the bishop. But I certainly told her that she had better mind her +distaff."</p> + +<p>"And how did she behave then?"</p> + +<p>"I did not wait to see. The bishop had spoken, and I had replied; and +why should I tarry to behold the woman's violence? I had told him +that he was wrong in law, and that I at least would not submit to +usurped authority. There was nothing to keep me longer, and so I went +without much ceremony of leave-taking. There had been little ceremony +of greeting on their part, and there was less in the making of adieux +on mine. They had told me that I was a thief<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"No, Josiah,—surely not so? They did not use that very word?"</p> + +<p>"I say they did;—they did use the very word. But stop. I am wrong. I +wrong his lordship, and I crave pardon for having done so. If my +memory serve me, no expression so harsh escaped from the bishop's +mouth. He gave me, indeed, to understand more than once that the +action taken by the magistrates was tantamount to a conviction, and +that I must be guilty because they had decided that there was +evidence sufficient to justify a trial. But all that arose from my +lord's ignorance of the administration of the laws of his country. He +was very ignorant,—puzzle-pated, as you may call it,—led by the +nose by his wife, weak as water, timid and vacillating. But he did +not wish, I think, to be insolent. It was Mrs Proudie who told me to +my face that I was a—thief."</p> + +<p>"May she be punished for the cruel word!" said Mrs Crawley. "May the +remembrance that she has spoken it come, some day, heavily upon her +heart!"</p> + +<p>"'Vengeance is mine. I will repay,' saith the Lord," answered Mr +Crawley. "We may safely leave all that alone, and rid our minds of +such wishes, if it be possible. It is well, I think, that violent +offences, when committed, should be met by instant rebuke. To turn +the other cheek instantly to the smiter can hardly be suitable in +these days, when the hands of so many are raised to strike. But the +return blow should be given only while the smart remains. She hurt me +then; but what is it to me now, that she called me a thief to my +face? Do I not know that, all the country round, men and woman are +calling me the same behind my back?"</p> + +<p>"No, Josiah, you do not know that. They say the thing is very +strange,—so strange that it requires a trial; but no one thinks you +have taken that which was not your own."</p> + +<p>"I think I did. I myself think I took that which was not my own. My +poor head suffers so;—so many grievous thoughts distract me, that I +am like a child, and know not what I do." As he spoke thus he put +both hands up to his head, leaning forward as though in anxious +thought,—as though he were striving to bring his mind to bear with +accuracy upon past events. "It could not have been mine, and +yet<span class="nowrap">—"</span> +Then he sat silent, and made no effort to continue his speech.</p> + +<p>"And yet?"—said his wife, encouraging him to proceed. If she could +only learn the real truth, she thought that she might perhaps yet +save him, with assistance from their friends.</p> + +<p>"When I said that I had gotten it from that man I must have been +mad."</p> + +<p>"From which man, love?"</p> + +<p>"From the man Soames,—he who accuses me. And yet, as the Lord hears +me, I thought so then. The truth is, that there are times when I am +not—sane. I am not a thief,—not before God; but I am—mad at +times." These last words he spoke very slowly, in a whisper,—without +any excitement,—indeed with a composure which was horrible to +witness. And what he said was the more terrible because she was so +well convinced of the truth of his words. Of course he was no thief. +She wanted no one to tell her that. As he himself had expressed it, +he was no thief before God, however the money might have come into +his possession. That there were times when his reason, once so fine +and clear, could not act, could not be trusted to guide him right, +she had gradually come to know with fear and trembling. But he +himself had never before hinted his own consciousness of this +calamity. Indeed he had been so unwilling to speak of himself and of +his own state, that she had been unable even to ask him a question +about the money, lest he should suspect that she suspected him. Now +he was speaking,—but speaking with such heart-rending sadness that +she could hardly urge him to go on.</p> + +<p>"You have sometimes been ill, Josiah, as any of us may be," she said, +"and that has been the cause."</p> + +<p>"There are different kinds of sickness. There is sickness of the +body, and sickness of the heart, and sickness of the spirit;—and +then there is sickness of the mind, the worst of all."</p> + +<p>"With you, Josiah, it has chiefly been the first."</p> + +<p>"With me, Mary, it has been all of them,—every one! My spirit is +broken, and my mind has not been able to keep its even tenour amidst +the ruins. But I will strive. I will strive. I will strive still. And +if God helps me, I will prevail." Then he took up his hat and cloak, +and went forth among the lanes; and on this occasion his wife was +glad that he should go alone.</p> + +<p>This occurred a day or two before Christmas, and Mrs Crawley during +those days said nothing more to her husband on the subject which he +had so unexpectedly discussed. She asked him no questions about the +money, or as to the possibility of his exercising his memory, nor did +she counsel him to plead that the false excuses given by him for his +possession of the cheque had been occasioned by the sad slip to which +sorrow had in those days subjected his memory and his intellect. But +the matter had always been on her mind. Might it not be her paramount +duty to do something of this at the present moment? Might it not be +that his acquittal or conviction would depend on what she might now +learn from him? It was clear to her that he was brighter in spirit +since his encounter with the Proudies than he had ever been since the +accusation had been first made against him. And she knew well that +his present mood would not be of long continuance. He would fall +again into his moody silent ways, and then the chance of learning +aught from him would be past, and perhaps, for ever.</p> + +<p>He performed the Christmas services with nothing of special +despondency in his tone or manner, and his wife thought that she had +never heard him give the sacrament with more impressive dignity. +After the service he stood awhile at the churchyard gate, and +exchanged a word of courtesy as to the season with such of the +families of the farmers as had stayed for the Lord's supper.</p> + +<p>"I waited at Framley for your reverence till arter six,—so I did," +said farmer Mangle.</p> + +<p>"I kept the road, and walked the whole way," said Mr Crawley, "I +think I told you that I should not return to the mill. But I am not +the less obliged by your great kindness."</p> + +<p>"Say nowt o' that," said the farmer. "No doubt I had business at the +mill,—lots to do at the mill." Nor did he think that the fib he was +telling was at all incompatible with the Holy Sacrament in which he +had just taken a part.</p> + +<p>The Christmas dinner at the parsonage was not a repast that did much +honour to the season, but it was a better dinner than the inhabitants +of that house usually saw on the board before them. There was roast +pork and mince-pies, and a bottle of wine. As Mrs Crawley with her +own hand put the meat upon the table, and then, as was her custom in +their house, proceeded to cut it up, she looked at husband's face to +see whether he was scrutinising the food with painful eye. It was +better that she should tell the truth at once than that she should be +made to tell it, in answer to a question. Everything on the table, +except the bread and potatoes, had come in a basket from Framley +Court. Pork had been sent instead of beef, because people in the +country, when they kill their pigs, do sometimes give each other +pork, but do not exchange joints of beef, when they slay their oxen. +All this was understood by Mrs Crawley, but she almost wished that +beef had been sent, because beef would have attracted less attention. +He said, however, nothing to the meat; but when his wife proposed to +him that he should eat a mince-pie he resented it. "The bare food," +said he, "is bitter enough, coming as it does; but that would choke +me." She did not press it, but eat one herself, as otherwise her girl +would have been forced also to refuse the dainty.</p> + +<p>That evening, as soon as Jane was in bed, she resolved to ask him +some further questions. "You will have a lawyer, Josiah,—will you +not?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I have a lawyer?"</p> + +<p>"Because he will know what questions to ask, and how questions on the +other side should be answered."</p> + +<p>"I have no questions to ask, and there is only one way in which +questions should be answered. I have no money to pay a lawyer."</p> + +<p>"But, Josiah, in such a case as this, where your honour, and our very +life depend upon it<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Depend on what?"</p> + +<p>"On your acquittal."</p> + +<p>"I shall not be acquitted. It is well to look it in the face at once. +Lawyer or no lawyer, they will say that I took the money. Were I upon +the jury, trying the case myself, knowing all that I know now,"—and +as he said this he struck forth with his hands into the air,—"I +think that I should say so myself. A lawyer will do no good. It is +here. It is here." And again he put his hands up to his head.</p> + +<p>So far she had been successful. At this moment it had in truth been +her object to induce him to speak of his own memory, and not of the +aid that a lawyer might give. The proposition of the lawyer had been +brought in to introduce the subject.</p> + +<p>"But, Josiah—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>It was very hard for her to speak. She could not bear to torment him +by any allusion to his own deficiencies. She could not endure to make +him think that she suspected him of any frailty either in intellect +or thought. Wifelike, she desired to worship him, and that he should +know that she worshipped him. But if a word might save him! "Josiah, +where did it come from?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he; "yes; that is the question. Where did it come +from?"—and he turned sharp upon her, looking at her with all the +power of his eyes. "It is because I cannot tell you where it came +from that I ought to be,—either in Bedlam, as a madman, or in the +county gaol as a thief." The words were so dreadful to her that she +could not utter at the moment another syllable. "How is a man—to +think himself—fit—for a man's work, when he cannot answer his wife +such a plain question as that?" Then he paused again. "They should +take me to Bedlam at once,—at once,—at once. That would not +disgrace the children as the gaol will do."</p> + +<p>Mrs Crawley could ask no further questions on that evening.</p> + + +<p><a name="c20" id="c20"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX</h3> +<h3>What Mr Walker Thought About It<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It had been suggested to Mr Robarts, the parson of Framley, that he +should endeavour to induce his old acquaintance, Mr Crawley, to +employ a lawyer to defend him at his trial, and Mr Robarts had not +forgotten the commission which he had undertaken. But there were +difficulties in the matter of which he was well aware. In the first +place Mr Crawley was a man whom it had not at any time been easy to +advise on matters private to himself; and, in the next place, this +was a matter on which it was very hard to speak to the man +implicated, let him be who he would. Mr Robarts had come round to the +generally accepted idea that Mr Crawley had obtained possession of +the cheque illegally,—acquitting his friend in his own mind of +theft, simply by supposing that he was wool-gathering when the cheque +came in his way. But in speaking to Mr Crawley, it would be +necessary,—so he thought,—to pretend a conviction that Mr Crawley +was as innocent in fact as in intention.</p> + +<p>He had almost made up his mind to dash at the subject when he met Mr +Crawley walking through Framley to Barchester, but he had abstained, +chiefly because Mr Crawley had been too quick for him, and had got +away. After that he resolved that it would be almost useless for him +to go to work unless he should be provided with a lawyer ready and +willing to undertake the task; and as he was not so provided at +present, he made up his mind that he would go into Silverbridge, and +see Mr Walker, the attorney there. Mr Walker always advised everybody +in those parts about everything, and would be sure to know what would +be the proper thing to be done in this case. So Mr Robarts got into +his gig, and drove himself into Silverbridge, passing very close to +Mr Crawley's house on his road. He drove at once to Mr Walker's +office, and on arriving there found that the attorney was not at that +moment within. But Mr Winthrop was within. Would Mr Robarts see Mr +Winthrop? Now, seeing Mr Winthrop was a very different thing from +seeing Mr Walker, although the two gentlemen were partners. But still +Mr Robarts said that he would see Mr Winthrop. Perhaps Mr Walker +might return while he was there.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything I can do for you, Mr Robarts?" asked Mr Winthrop. +Mr Robarts said that he had wished to see Mr Walker about that poor +fellow Crawley. "Ah, yes; very said case! So much sadder being a +clergyman, Mr Robarts. We are really quite sorry for him;—we are +indeed. We wouldn't have touched the case ourselves if we could have +helped ourselves. We wouldn't indeed. But we are obliged to take all +that business here. At any rate he'll get nothing but fair usage from +us."</p> + +<p>"I am sure of that. You don't know whether he has employed any lawyer +as yet to defend him?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say. We don't know, you know. I should say he had,—probably +some Barchester attorney. Borleys and Bonstock in Barchester are very +good people,—very good people indeed;—for that sort of business I +mean, Mr Robarts. I don't suppose they have much county property in +their hands."</p> + +<p>Mr Robarts knew that Mr Winthrop was a fool, and that he could get no +useful advice from him. So he suggested that he would take his gig +down to the inn, and call back again before long. "You'll find that +Walker knows no more than I do about it," said Mr Winthrop, "but of +course he'll be glad to see you if he happens to come in." So Mr +Robarts went to the inn, put up his horse, and then, as he sauntered +back up the street, met Mr Walker coming out of the private door of +his house.</p> + +<p>"I've been at home all the morning," he said; "but I've had a stiff +job of work on hand, and told them to say in the office that I was +not in. Seen Winthrop, have you? I don't suppose he did know that I +was here. The clerks often know more than the partners. About Mr +Crawley, is it? Come into my dining-room, Mr Robarts, where we shall +be alone. Yes;—it is a bad case; a very bad case. The pity is that +anybody should ever have said anything about it. Lord bless me, if +I'd been Soames I'd have let him have the twenty pounds. Lord Lufton +would never have allowed Soames to lose it."</p> + +<p>"But Soames wanted to find out the truth."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—that was just it. Soames couldn't bear to think that he should +be left in the dark, and then, when the poor man said that Soames had +paid the cheque to him in the way of business,—it was not odd that +Soames's back should have been up, was it? But, Mr Robarts, I should +have thought a deal about it before I should have brought such a man +as Mr Crawley before a bench of magistrates on that charge."</p> + +<p>"But between me and you, Mr Walker, did he steal the money?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr Robarts, you know how I'm placed."</p> + +<p>"Mr Crawley is my friend, and of course I want to assist him. I was +under a great obligation to Mr Crawley once, and I wish to befriend +him, whether he took the money or not. But I could act so much better +if I felt sure one way or the other."</p> + +<p>"If you ask me, I think he did take it."</p> + +<p>"What!—stole it?"</p> + +<p>"I think he knew it was not his own when he took it. You see I don't +think he meant to use it when he took it. He perhaps had some queer +idea that Soames had been hard on him, or his lordship, and that the +money was fairly his due. Then he kept the cheque by him till he was +absolutely badgered out of his life by the butcher up the street +there. That was about the long and the short of it, Mr Robarts."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. And now what had he better do?"</p> + +<p>"Well; if you ask me,— He is in very bad health, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"No; I should say not. He walked to Barchester and back the other +day."</p> + +<p>"Did he? But he's very queer, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Very odd-mannered indeed."</p> + +<p>"And does and says all manner of odd things?"</p> + +<p>"I think you'd find the bishop would say so after that interview."</p> + +<p>"Well; if it would do any good, you might have the bishop examined."</p> + +<p>"Examined for what, Mr Walker?"</p> + +<p>"If you could show, you know, that Crawley has got a bee in his +bonnet; that the mens sana is not there, in short;—I think you might +manage to have the trial postponed."</p> + +<p>"But then somebody must take charge of his living."</p> + +<p>"You parsons could manage that among you;—you and the dean and the +archdeacon. The archdeacon has always got half-a-dozen curates about +somewhere. And then,—after the assizes, Mr Crawley might come to his +senses; and I think,—mind you it's only an idea,—but I think the +committal might be quashed. It would have been temporary insanity, +and, though mind I don't give my word for it, I think he might go on +and keep his living. I think so, Mr Robarts."</p> + +<p>"That has never occurred to me."</p> + +<p>"No;—I daresay not. You see the difficulty is this. He's so +stiff-necked,—will do nothing himself. Well, that will do for one +proof of temporary insanity. The real truth is, Mr Robarts, he is as +mad as a hatter."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I've often thought so."</p> + +<p>"And you wouldn't mind saying so in evidence,—would you? Well, you +see, there is no helping such a man in any other way. He won't even +employ a lawyer to defend him."</p> + +<p>"That was what I had come to you about."</p> + +<p>"I'm told he won't. Now a man must be mad who won't employ a lawyer +when he wants one. You see, the point we should gain would be +this,—if we tried to get him through as being a little touched in +the upper storey,—whatever we could do for him, we could do against +his own will. The more he opposed us the stronger our case would be. +He would swear he was not mad at all, and we should say that that was +the greatest sign of his madness. But when I say we, of course I mean +you. I must not appear in it."</p> + +<p>"I wish you could, Mr Walker."</p> + +<p>"Of course I can't; but that won't make any difference."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he must have a lawyer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he must have a lawyer;—or rather, his friends must."</p> + +<p>"And who should employ him, ostensibly?"</p> + +<p>"Ah;—there's the difficulty. His wife wouldn't do it, I suppose? She +couldn't do him a better turn."</p> + +<p>"He would never forgive her. And she would never consent to act +against him."</p> + +<p>"Could you interfere?"</p> + +<p>"If necessary, I will;—but I hardly know him well enough."</p> + +<p>"Has he no father or mother, or uncles or aunts? He must have +somebody belonging to him," said Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>Then it occurred to Mr Robarts that Dean Arabin would be the proper +person to interfere. Dean Arabin and Mr Crawley had been intimate +friends in early life, and Dean Arabin knew more of him than did any +man, at least in those parts. All this Mr Robarts explained to Mr +Walker, and Mr Walker agreed with him that the services of Dean +Arabin should if possible be obtained. Mr Robarts would at once write +to Dean Arabin and explain at length all the circumstances of the +case. "The worst of it is, he will hardly be home in time," said Mr +Walker. "Perhaps he would come a little sooner if you were to press +it?"</p> + +<p>"But we could act in his name in his absence, I suppose?—of course +with his authority?"</p> + +<p>"I wish he could be here a month before the assizes, Mr Robarts. It +would be better."</p> + +<p>"And in the meantime shall I say anything to Mr Crawley, myself, +about employing a lawyer?"</p> + +<p>"I think I would. If he turns upon you, as like enough he may, and +abuses you, that will help us in one way. If he should consent, and +perhaps he may, that would help us in the other way. I'm told he's +been over and upset the whole coach at the palace."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think the bishop got much out of him," said the parson.</p> + +<p>"I don't like Crawley the less for speaking his mind free to the +bishop," said the lawyer, laughing. "And he'll speak it free to you +too, Mr Robarts."</p> + +<p>"He won't break any of my bones. Tell me, Mr Walker, what lawyer +shall I name to him?"</p> + +<p>"You can't have a better man than Mr Mason, up the street there."</p> + +<p>"Winthrop proposed Borleys at Barchester."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no. Borleys and Bonstock are capital people to push a fellow +through on a charge of horse-stealing, or to squeeze a man for a +little money; but they are not the people for Mr Crawley in such a +case as this. Mason is a better man; and then Mason and I know each +other." In saying which Mr Walker winked.</p> + +<p>There was then a discussion between them whether Mr Robarts should go +at once to Mr Mason; but it was decided at last that he should see Mr +Crawley and also write to the dean before his did so. The dean might +wish to employ his own lawyer, and if so the double expense should be +avoided. "Always remember, Mr Robarts, that when you go into an +attorney's office door, you will have to pay for it, first or last. +In here, you see, the dingy old mahogany, bare as it is, makes you +safe. Or else it's the salt-cellar, which will not allow itself to be +polluted by six-and-eightpenny considerations. But there is the other +kind of tax to be paid. You must go up and see Mrs Walker, or you +won't have her help in the matter."</p> + +<p>Mr Walker returned to his work, either to some private den within his +house, or to his office, and Mr Robarts was taken upstairs to the +drawing-room. There he found Mrs Walker and her daughter, and Miss +Anne Prettyman, who had just looked in, full of the story of Mr +Crawley's walk to Barchester. Mr Thumble had seen one of Dr Tempest's +curates, and had told the whole story—he, Mr Thumble, having heard +Mrs Proudie's version of what had occurred, and having, of course, +drawn his own deductions from her premises. And it seemed that Mr +Crawley had been watched as he passed through the close out of +Barchester. A minor canon had seen him, and had declared that he was +going at the rate of a hunt, swinging his arms on high and speaking +very loud, though,—as the minor canon said with regret,—the words +were hardly audible. But there had been no doubt as to the man. Mr +Crawley's old hat, and short rusty cloak, and dirty boots, had been +duly observed and chronicled by the minor canon; and Mr Thumble had +been enabled to put together a not altogether false picture of what +had occurred. As soon as the greetings between Mr Robarts and the +ladies had been made, Miss Anne Prettyman broke out again, just where +she had left off when Mr Robarts came in. "They say that Mrs Proudie +declared that she will have him sent to Botany Bay!"</p> + +<p>"Luckily Mrs Proudie won't have much to do in the matter," said Miss +Walker, who ranged herself, as to church matters, in ranks altogether +opposed to those commanded by Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"She will have nothing to do with it, my dear," said Mrs Walker; "and +I daresay Mrs Proudie was not foolish enough to say anything of the +kind."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, she would be foolish enough to say anything. Would she not Mr +Robarts?"</p> + +<p>"You forget, Miss Walker, that Mrs Proudie is in authority over me."</p> + +<p>"So she is, for the matter of that," said the young lady; "but I know +very well what you all think of her, and say of her too, at Framley. +Your friend, Lady Lufton, loves her dearly. I wish I could have been +hidden behind a curtain in the palace, to hear what Mr Crawley said +to her."</p> + +<p>"Mr Smillie declares," said Miss Prettyman, "that the bishop has been +ill ever since. Mr Smillie went over to his mother's at Barchester +for Christmas, and took part of the cathedral duty, and we had Mr +Spooner over here in his place. So Mr Smillie of course heard all +about it. Only fancy, poor Mr Crawley walking all the way from +Hogglestock to Barchester and back;—and I am told he hardly had a +shoe to his foot! Is it not a shame, Mr Robarts?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it was quite so bad as you say, Miss Prettyman; but, +upon the whole, I do think it is a shame. But what can we do?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose there are tithes at Hogglestock? Why are they not given up +to the church, as they ought to be?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Prettyman, that is a very large subject, and I am +afraid it cannot be settled in time to relieve our poor friend from +his distress." Then Mr Robarts escaped from the ladies in Mr Walker's +house, who, as it seemed to him, were touching upon dangerous ground, +and went back to the yard of the George Inn for his gig,—the "George +and Vulture" it was properly called, and was the house in which the +magistrates had sat when they committed Mr Crawley for trial.</p> + +<p>"Footed it every inch of the way, blowed if he didn't," the ostler +was saying to a gentleman's groom, whom Mr Robarts recognised to be +the servant of his friend Major Grantly; and Mr Robarts knew that +they also were talking about Mr Crawley. Everybody in the county was +talking about Mr Crawley. At home, at Framley, there was no other +subject of discourse. Lady Lufton, the dowager, was full of it, being +firmly convinced that Mr Crawley was innocent, because the bishop was +supposed to regard him as guilty. There had been a family conclave +held at Framley Court over that basket of provisions which had been +sent for the Christmas cheer of the Hogglestock parsonage, each of +the three ladies, the two Lady Luftons and Mrs Robarts, having +special views of their own. How the pork had been substituted for the +beef by old Lady Lufton, young Lady Lufton thinking that after all +the beef would be less dangerous, and how a small turkey had been +rashly suggested by Mrs Robarts, and how certain small articles had +been inserted in the bottom of the basket which Mrs Crawley had never +shewn to her husband, need not here be told at length. But Mr +Robarts, as he heard the two grooms talking about Mr Crawley, began +to feel that Mr Crawley had achieved at least celebrity.</p> + +<p>The groom touched his hat as Mr Robarts walked up. "Has the major +returned home yet?" Mr Robarts asked. The groom said that his master +was still at Plumstead, and that he was to go over to Plumstead to +fetch the major and Miss Edith in a day or two. Then Mr Robarts got +into his gig, and as he drove out of the yard he heard the words of +the men as they returned to the same subject. "Footed it all the +way," said one. "And yet he's a gen'leman, too," said the other. Mr +Robarts thought of this as he drove on, intending to call at +Hogglestock on that very day on his way home. It was undoubtedly the +fact that Mr Crawley was recognised to be a gentleman by all who knew +him, high or low, rich or poor, by those who thought well of him and +by those who thought ill. These grooms, who had been telling each +other that this parson, who was to be tried as a thief, had been +constrained to walk from Hogglestock to Barchester and back, because +he could not afford to travel any other way, and that his boots were +cracked and his clothes ragged, had still known him to be a +gentleman! Nobody doubted it; not even they who thought he had stolen +the money. Mr Robarts himself was certain of it, and told himself +that he knew it by the evidences which his own education made clear +to him. But how was it that the grooms knew it? For my part I think +that there are no better judges of the article than the grooms.</p> + +<p>Thinking still of all which he had heard, Mr Robarts found himself at +Mr Crawley's gate at Hogglestock.</p> + + +<p><a name="c21" id="c21"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI</h3> +<h3>Mr Robarts on His Embassy<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Mr Robarts was not altogether easy in his mind as he approached Mr +Crawley's house. He was aware that the task before him was a very +difficult one, and he had not confidence in himself,—that he was +exactly the man fitted for the performance of such a task. He was a +little afraid of Mr Crawley, acknowledging tacitly to himself that +the man had a power of ascendancy with which he would hardly be able +to cope successfully. In old days he had once been rebuked by Mr +Crawley, and had been cowed by the rebuke; and though there was no +touch of rancour in his heart on this account, no slightest remaining +venom,—but rather increased respect and friendship,—still he was +unable to overcome the remembrance of the scene in which the +perpetual curate of Hogglestock had undoubtedly had the mastery of +him. So, when two dogs have fought and one has conquered, the +conquered dog will always show an unconscious submission to the +conqueror.</p> + +<p>He hailed a boy on the road as he drew near to the house, knowing +that he would find no one at the parsonage to hold his horse for him, +and was thus able without delay to walk through the garden and knock +at the door. "Papa was not at home," Jane said. "Papa was at the +school. But papa could certainly be summoned." She herself would run +across to the school if Mr Robarts would come in. So Mr Robarts +entered, and found Mrs Crawley in the sitting-room. Mr Crawley would +be in directly, she said. And then, hurrying on to the subject with +confused haste, in order that a word or two might be spoken before +her husband came back, she expressed her thanks and his for the good +things which had been sent to them at Christmas-tide.</p> + +<p>"It's old Lady Lufton's doings," said Mr Robarts, trying to laugh the +matter over.</p> + +<p>"I knew that it came from Framley, Mr Robarts, and I know how good +you all are there. I have not written to thank Lady Lufton. I thought +it better not to write. Your sister will understand why, if no one +else does. But you will tell them from me, I am sure, that it was, as +they intended, a comfort to us. Your sister knows too much of us for +me to suppose that our great poverty can be a secret from her. And, +as far as I am concerned, I do not now much care who knows it."</p> + +<p>"There is no disgrace in not being rich," said Mr Robarts.</p> + +<p>"No; and the feeling of disgrace which does attach itself to being so +poor as we are is deadened by the actual suffering which such poverty +brings with it. At least it has become so with me. I am not ashamed +to say that I am very grateful for what you all have done for us at +Framley. But you must not say anything to him about that."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will not, Mrs Crawley."</p> + +<p>"His spirit is higher than mine, I think, and he suffers more from +the natural disinclination which we all have to receiving alms. Are +you going to speak to him about the affair of the—the cheque, Mr +Robarts?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to ask him to put his case into some lawyer's hands."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I wish he would!"</p> + +<p>"And will he not?"</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of you, your coming to ask him, but<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Has he so strong an objection?"</p> + +<p>"He will tell you that he has no money to pay a lawyer."</p> + +<p>"But, surely, if he were convinced that it was absolutely necessary +for the vindication of his innocence, he would submit to charge +himself with an expense so necessary, not only for himself, but for +his family?"</p> + +<p>"He will say it ought not to be necessary. You know, Mr Robarts, that +in some respects he is not like other men. You will not let what I +say of him set you against him?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, no."</p> + +<p>"It is most kind of you to make the attempt. He will be here +directly, and when he comes I will leave you together."</p> + +<p>While she was yet speaking his step was heard along the gravel-path, +and he hurried into the room with quick steps. "I crave your pardon, +Mr Robarts," he said, "that I should keep you waiting." now Robarts +had not been there ten minutes, and any such asking of pardon was +hardly necessary. And, even in his own house, Mr Crawley affected a +mock humility, as though, either through his own debasement, or +because of the superior station of the other clergyman, he were not +entitled to put himself on an equal footing with his visitor. He +would not have shaken hands with Mr Robarts,—intending to indicate +that he did not presume to do so while the present accusation was +hanging over him,—had not the action been forced upon him. And then +there was something of a protest in his manner, as though +remonstrating against a thing that was unbecoming to him. Mr Robarts, +without analysing it, understood it all, and knew that behind the +humility there was a crushing pride,—a pride which, in all +probability, would rise up and crush him before he could get himself +out of the room again. It was, perhaps, after all, a question whether +the man was not served rightly by the extremities to which he was +reduced. There was something radically wrong within him, which had +put him into antagonism with all the world, and which produced these +never-dying grievances. There were many clergymen in the country with +incomes as small as that which had fallen to the lot of Mr Crawley, +but they managed to get on without displaying their sores as Mr +Crawley displayed his. They did not wear their old rusty cloaks with +all that ostentatious bitterness of poverty which seemed to belong to +that garment when displayed on Mr Crawley's shoulders. Such, for a +moment, were Mr Robarts' thoughts, and he almost repented himself of +his present mission. But then he thought of Mrs Crawley, and +remembering that her sufferings were at any rate undeserved, +determined that he would persevere.</p> + +<p>Mrs Crawley disappeared almost as soon as her husband appeared, and +Mr Robarts found himself standing in front of his friend, who +remained fixed to the spot, with his hands folded over each other and +his neck slightly bent forward, in token also of humility. "I +regret," he said, "that your horse should be left there, exposed to +the inclemency of the weather; but<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"The horse won't mind it a bit," said Mr Robarts. "A parson's horse +is like a butcher's, and knows he mustn't be particular about waiting +in the cold."</p> + +<p>"I never have had one myself," said Mr Crawley. Now Mr Robarts had +had more horses than one before now, and had been thought by some to +have incurred greater expense than was befitting in his stable +comforts. The subject, therefore, was a sore one, and he was worried +a little. "I just wanted to say a few words to you, Crawley," he +said, "and if I am not occupying too much of your +time<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"My time is altogether at your disposal. Will you be seated?"</p> + +<p>Then Mr Robarts sat down, and, swinging his hat between his legs, +bethought himself how he should begin his work. "We had the +archdeacon over at Framley the other day," he said. "Of course you +know the archdeacon?"</p> + +<p>"I never had the advantage of any acquaintance with Dr Grantly. Of +course I know him well by name, and also personally,—that is, by +sight."</p> + +<p>"And by character?"</p> + +<p>"Nay; I can hardly say so much as that. But I am aware that his name +stands high with many of his order."</p> + +<p>"Exactly; that is what I mean. You know that his judgment is thought +more of in clerical matters than that of any other clergyman in the +county."</p> + +<p>"By a certain party, Mr Robarts."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. They don't think much of him, I suppose, at the palace. +But that won't lower him in your estimation."</p> + +<p>"I by no means wish to derogate from Dr Grantly's high position in +his own archdeaconry,—to which, as you are aware, I am not +attached,—nor to criticise his conduct in any respect. It would be +unbecoming in me to do so. But I cannot accept it as a point in a +clergyman's favour, that he should be opposed to his bishop."</p> + +<p>Now this was too much for Mr Robarts. After all that he had heard of +the visit paid by Mr Crawley to the palace,—of the venom displayed +by Mrs Proudie on that occasion, and of the absolute want of +subordination to episcopal authority which Mr Crawley himself was +supposed to have shown,—Mr Robarts did feel it hard that his friend +the archdeacon should be snubbed in this way because he was deficient +in reverence for his bishop! "I thought, Crawley," he said, "that you +yourself were inclined to dispute orders coming to you from the +palace. The world at least says as much concerning you."</p> + +<p>"What the world says of me I have learned to disregard very much, Mr +Robarts. But I hope that I shall never disobey the authority of the +Church when properly and legally exercised."</p> + +<p>"I hope with all my heart you never will; not I either. And the +archdeacon, who knows, to the breadth of a hair, what a bishop ought +to do and what he ought not, and what he may do and what he may not, +will, I should say, be the last man in England to sin in that way."</p> + +<p>"Very probably. I am far from contradicting you there. Pray +understand, Mr Robarts, that I bring no accusation against the +archdeacon. Why should I?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to discuss him at all."</p> + +<p>"Nor did I, Mr Robarts."</p> + +<p>"I only mentioned his name, because, as I said, he was over with us +the other day at Framley, and we were all talking about your affair."</p> + +<p>"My affair!" said Mr Crawley. And then came a frown upon his brow, +and a gleam of fire into his eyes, which effectually banished that +look of extreme humility which he had assumed. "And may I ask why the +archdeacon was discussing—my affair?"</p> + +<p>"Simply from the kindness which he bears to you."</p> + +<p>"I am grateful for the archdeacon's kindness, as a man is bound to be +for any kindness, whether displayed wisely or unwisely. But it seems +to me that my affair, as you call it, Mr Robarts, is of that nature +that they who wish well to me will better further their wishes by +silence than by any discussion."</p> + +<p>"Then I cannot agree with you." Mr Crawley shrugged his shoulders, +opened his hands a little and then closed them, and bowed his head. +He could not have declared more clearly by any words that he differed +altogether from Mr Robarts, and that as the subject was one so +peculiarly his own he had a right to expect that his opinion should +be allowed to prevail against that of any other person. "If you come +to that, you know, how is anybody's tongue to be stopped?"</p> + +<p>"That vain tongues cannot be stopped, I am well aware. I do not +expect that people's tongues should be stopped. I am not saying what +men will do, but what good wishes should dictate."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps you'll hear me out for a minute." Mr Crawley again +bowed his head. "Whether we were wise or unwise, we were discussing +this affair."</p> + +<p>"Whether I stole Mr Soames's money?"</p> + +<p>"No; nobody supposed for a moment you had stolen it."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand how they should suppose anything else, knowing, +as they do, that the magistrates have committed me for the theft. +This took place at Framley, you say, and probably in Lord Lufton's +presence."</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"And Lord Lufton was chairman at the sitting of the magistrates at +which I was committed. How can it be that he should think otherwise?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure that he has not an idea that you were guilty. Nor yet has +Dr Thorne, who was also one of the magistrates. I don't suppose one +of them then thought so."</p> + +<p>"Then their action, to say the least of it, was very strange."</p> + +<p>"It was all because you had nobody to manage it for you. I thoroughly +believe that if you had placed the matter in the hands of a good +lawyer, you would never have heard a word more about it. That seems +to be the opinion of everybody I speak to on the subject."</p> + +<p>"Then in this country a man is to be punished or not, according to +ability to fee a lawyer!"</p> + +<p>"I am not talking about punishment."</p> + +<p>"And presuming an innocent man to have the ability and not the will +to do so, he is to be punished, to be ruined root and branch, self +and family, character and pocket, simply because, knowing his own +innocence, he does not choose to depend on the mercenary skill of a +man whose trade he abhors for the establishment of that which should +be clear as sun at noon-day! You say I am innocent, and yet you tell +me I am to be condemned as a guilty man, have my gown taken from me, +be torn from my wife and children, be disgraced before the eyes of +all men, and be made a byword and a thing horrible to be mentioned, +because I will not fee an attorney to fee another man to come and lie +on my behalf, to browbeat witnesses, to make false appeals, and +perhaps shed false tears in defending me. You have come to me asking +me to do this, if I understand you, telling me that the archdeacon +would so advise me."</p> + +<p>"That is my object." Mr Crawley, as he had spoken, had in his +vehemence risen from his seat, and Mr Robarts was also standing.</p> + +<p>"Then tell the archdeacon," said Mr Crawley, "that I will have none +of his advice. I will have no one there paid by me to obstruct the +course of justice or to hoodwink a jury. I have been in courts of +law, and know what is the work for which these gentlemen are hired. I +will have none of it, and I will thank you to tell the archdeacon so, +with my respectful acknowledgements of his consideration and +condescension. I say nothing as to my own innocence, or my own guilt. +But I do say that if I am dragged before that tribunal, an innocent +man, and am falsely declared to be guilty, because I lack money to +bribe a lawyer to speak for me, then the laws of this country deserve +but little of that reverence which we are accustomed to pay to them. +And if I be guilty<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Nobody supposes you to be guilty."</p> + +<p>"And if I be guilty," continued Mr Crawley, altogether ignoring the +interruption, except by the repetition of his words, and a slight +raising of his voice, "I will not add to my guilt by hiring any one +to prove a falsehood or to disprove a truth."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry that you should say so, Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"I speak according to what light I have, Mr Robarts; and if I have +been over-warm with you,—and I am conscious that I have been in +fault in that direction,—I must pray you to remember that I am +somewhat hardly tried. My sorrows and troubles are so great that they +rise against me and disturb me, and drive me on,—whither I would not +be driven."</p> + +<p>"But, my friend, is not that just the reason why you should trust in +this matter to some one who can be more calm than yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot trust to any one,—in a matter of conscience. To do as you +would have me is to me wrong. Shall I do wrong because I am unhappy?"</p> + +<p>"You should cease to think it wrong when so advised by persons you +can trust."</p> + +<p>"I can trust no one with my own conscience;—not even the archdeacon, +great as he is."</p> + +<p>"The archdeacon has meant only well to you."</p> + +<p>"I will presume so. I will believe so. I do think so. Tell the +archdeacon from me that I humbly thank him;—that in a matter of +church question, I might probably submit my judgment to his; even +though he might have no authority over me, knowing as I do that in +such matters his experience has been great. Tell him also, that +though I would fain that this unfortunate affair might burden the +tongue of none among my neighbours,—at least till I shall have stood +before the judge to receive the verdict of the jury, and, if needful, +his lordship's sentence—still I am convinced that in what he has +spoken, as also in what he has done, he has not yielded to the +idleness of gossip, but has exercised his judgment with intended +kindness."</p> + +<p>"He has certainly intended to do you a service; and as for its not +being talked about, that is out of the question."</p> + +<p>"And for yourself, Mr Robarts, whom I have ever regarded as a friend +since circumstances brought me into your neighbourhood,—for you, +whose sister I love tenderly in memory of past kindness, though now +she is removed so far above my sphere, as to make it unfit that I +should call her my friend<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"She does not think so at all."</p> + +<p>"For yourself, as I was saying, pray believe me that though from the +roughness of my manner, being now unused to social intercourse, I +seem to be ungracious and forbidding, I am grateful and mindful, and +that in the tablets of my heart I have written you down as one in +whom I could trust,—were it given to me to trust in men and women." +Then he turned round with his face to the wall and his back to his +visitor, and so remained till Mr Robarts had left him. "At any rate, +I wish you well through your trouble," said Robarts; and as he spoke +he found that his own words were nearly choked by a sob that was +rising in this throat.</p> + +<p>He went away without another word, and got out to his gig without +seeing Mrs Crawley. During one period of the interview he had been +very angry with the man,—so angry as to make him almost declare to +himself that he would take no more trouble on his behalf. Then he had +been brought to acknowledge that Mr Walker was right, and that +Crawley was certainly mad. He was so mad, so far removed from the +dominion of sound sense, that no jury could say that he was guilty +and that he ought to be punished for his guilt. And, as he so +resolved, he could not but ask himself the question, whether the +charge of the parish ought to be left in the hands of such a man? But +at last, just before he went, these feelings and these convictions +gave way to pity, and he remembered simply the troubles which seemed +to have been heaped on the head of this poor victim to misfortune. As +he drove home he resolved that there was nothing left for him to do, +but to write to the dean. It was known to all who knew them both, +that the dean and Mr Crawley had lived together on the closest +intimacy at college, and that the friendship had been maintained +through life;—though, from the peculiarity of Mr Crawley's +character, the two had not been much together of late years. Seeing +how things were going now, and hearing how pitiful was the plight in +which Mr Crawley was placed, the dean would, no doubt, feel it to be +his duty to hasten his return to England. He was believed to be at +this moment in Jerusalem, and it would be long before a letter could +reach him; but there still wanted three months to the assizes, and +his return might be probably effected before the end of February.</p> + +<p>"I never was so distressed in my life," Mark Robarts said to his +wife.</p> + +<p>"And you think you have done no good?"</p> + +<p>"Only this, that I have convinced myself that the poor man is not +responsible for what he does, and that for her sake as well as for +his own, some person should be enabled to interfere for his +protection." Then he told Mrs Robarts what Mr Walker had said; also +the message which Mr Crawley had sent to the archdeacon. But they +both agreed that that message need not be sent on any further.</p> + + +<p><a name="c22" id="c22"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII</h3> +<h3>Major Grantly at Home<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Mrs Thorne had spoken very plainly in the advice which she had given +to Major Grantly. "If I were you, I'd be at Allington before twelve +o'clock to-morrow." That had been Mrs Thorne's advice; and though +Major Grantly had no idea of making the journey so rapidly as the +lady had proposed, still he thought that he would make it before +long, and follow the advice in spirit if not to the letter. Mrs +Thorne had asked him if it was fair that the girl should be punished +because of the father's fault; and the idea had been sweet to him +that the infliction or non-infliction of such punishment should be in +his hands. "You go and ask her," Mrs Thorne had said. Well;—he would +go and ask her. If it should turn out at last that he had married the +daughter of a thief, and that he was disinherited for doing so,—an +arrangement of circumstances which he had to teach himself to regard as +very probable,—he would not love Grace the less on that account, or +allow himself for one moment to repent what he had done. As he +thought of all this he became somewhat in love with a small income, +and imagined to himself what honours would be done to him by the Mrs +Thornes of the county, when they should come to know in what way he +had sacrificed himself to his love. Yes;—they would go and live at +Pau. He thought Pau would do. He would have enough of income for +that;—and Edith would get lessons cheaply, and would learn to talk +French fluently. He certainly would do it. He would go down to +Allington, and ask Grace to be his wife; and bid her to understand +that if she loved him she could not be justified in refusing him by +the circumstances of her father's position.</p> + +<p>But he must go to Plumstead before he could go to Allington. He was +engaged to spend his Christmas there, and must go now at once. There +was not time for the journey to Allington before he was due at +Plumstead. And, moreover, though he could not bring himself to +resolve that he would tell his father what he was going to do;—"It +would seem as though I were asking his leave!" he said to +himself;—he thought that he would make a clean breast of it to his +mother. It made him sad to think that he should cut the rope which +fastened his own boat among the other boats in the home harbour at +Plumstead, and that he should go out all alone into strange +waters,—turned adrift altogether, as it were, from the Grantly +fleet. If he could only get the promise of his mother's sympathy for +Grace it would be something. He understood,—no one better than +he,—the tendency of all his family to an uprising in the world, +which tendency was almost as strong in his mother as in his father. +And he had been by no means without a similar ambition himself, +though with him the ambition had been only fitful, not enduring. He +had a brother, a clergyman, a busy, stirring, eloquent London +preacher, who got churches built, and was heard of far and wide as a +rising man, who had married a certain Lady Anne, the daughter of an +earl, and who was already mentioned as a candidate for high places. +How his sister was the wife of a marquis, and a leader in the +fashionable world, the reader already knows. The archdeacon himself +was a rich man, so powerful that he could afford to look down upon a +bishop; and Mrs Grantly, though there was left about her something of +an old softness of nature, a touch of the former life which had been +hers before the stream of her days had run gold, yet she, too, had +taken kindly to wealth and high standing, and was by no means one of +those who construe literally that passage of scripture which tells us +of the camel and the needle's eye. Our Henry Grantly, our major, knew +himself to be his mother's favourite child,—knew himself to have +become so since something of coolness had grown up between her and +her august daughter. The augustness of the daughter had done much to +reproduce the old freshness of which I have spoken in the mother's +heart, and had specially endeared to her the son, who, of all her +children, was the least subject to the family failing. The clergyman, +Charles Grantly,—he who had married the Lady Anne,—was his father's +darling in these days. The old archdeacon would go up to London and +be quite happy in his son's house. He met there the men whom he loved +to meet, and heard the talk which he loved to hear. It was very fine, +having the Marquis of Hartletop for his son-in-law, but he had never +cared to be much at Lady Hartletop's house. Indeed, the archdeacon +cared to be in no house in which those around him were supposed to be +bigger than himself. Such was the little family fleet from out of +which Henry Grantly was now proposing to sail alone with his little +boat,—taking Grace Crawley with him at the helm. "My father is a +just man at the bottom," he said to himself, "and though he may not +forgive me, he will not punish Edith."</p> + +<p>But there was still left one of the family,—not a Grantly, indeed, +but one so nearly allied to them as to have his boat moored in the +same harbour,—who, as the major well knew, would thoroughly +sympathise with him. This was old Mr Harding, his mother's +father,—the father of his mother and of his aunt Mrs Arabin,—whose +home was now at the deanery. He was also to be at Plumstead during +this Christmas, and he at any rate would give a ready assent to such +a marriage as that which the major was proposing for himself. But +then poor old Mr Harding had been thoroughly deficient in that +ambition which had served to aggrandize the family into which his +daughter had married. He was a poor man who, in spite of good +friends,—for the late bishop of the diocese had been his dearest +friend,—had never risen high in his profession, and had fallen even +from the moderate altitude which he had attained. But he was a man +whom all loved who knew him; and it was much to the credit of his +son-in-law, the archdeacon, that, with all his tendencies to love +rising suns, he had ever been true to Mr Harding.</p> + +<p>Major Grantly took his daughter with him, and on his arrival at +Plumstead she of course was the first object of attention. Mrs +Grantly declared that she had grown immensely. The archdeacon +complimented her red cheeks, and said that Cosby Lodge was as healthy +a place as any in the county, while Mr Harding, Edith's +great-grandfather, drew slowly from his pocket sundry treasures with +which he had come prepared for the delight of the little girl. +Charles Grantly and Lady Anne had no children, and the heir of all +the Hartletops was too august to have been trusted to the embraces of +her mother's grandfather. Edith, therefore, was all that he had in +that generation, and of Edith he was prepared to be as indulgent as +he had been, in their time, of his grandchildren, the Grantlys, and +still was of his grandchildren the Arabins, and had been before that +of his own daughters. "She's more like Eleanor than any one else," +said the old man in a plaintive tone. Now Eleanor was Mrs Arabin, the +dean's wife, and was at this time,—if I were to say over forty I do +not think I should be uncharitable. No one else saw the special +likeness, but no one else remembered, as Mr Harding did, what Eleanor +had been when she was three years old.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Nelly is in France," said the child.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my darling, aunt Nelly is in France, and I wish she were at +home. Aunt Nelly has been away a long time."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she'll stay till the dean picks her up on his way home?" +said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"So she says in her letters. I heard from her yesterday, and I +brought the letter, as I thought you'd like to see it." Mrs Grantly +took the letter and read it, while her father still played with the +child. The archdeacon and the major were standing together on the rug +discussing the shooting at Chaldicotes, as to which the archdeacon +had a strong opinion. "I'm quite sure that a man with a place like +that does more good by preserving than by leaving it alone. The +better head of game he has the richer the county will be generally. +It is just the same with pheasants as it is with sheep and bullocks. +A pheasant doesn't cost more than he's worth any more than a +barn-door fowl. Besides, a man who preserves is always respected by +the poachers, and the man who doesn't is not."</p> + +<p>"There's something in that, sir, certainly," said the major.</p> + +<p>"More than you think for, perhaps. Look at poor Sowerby, who went on +there for years without a shilling. How he was respected, because he +lived as the people around him expected a gentleman to live. Thorne +will have a bad time of it, if he tries to change things."</p> + +<p>"Only think," exclaimed Mrs Grantly, "when Eleanor wrote she had not +heard of that affair of poor Mr Crawley's."</p> + +<p>"Does she say anything about him?" asked the major.</p> + +<p>"I'll read what she says. 'I see in <i>Galignani</i> that a clergyman in +Barsetshire has been committed for theft. Pray tell me who it is. Not +the bishop, I hope, for the credit of the diocese?'"</p> + +<p>"I wish it were," said the archdeacon</p> + +<p>"For shame, my dear," said his wife.</p> + +<p>"No shame at all. If we are to have a thief among us, I'd sooner find +him in a bad man than a good one. Besides, we should have a change at +the palace, which would be a great thing."</p> + +<p>"But is it not odd that Eleanor should have heard nothing of it?" +said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"It's odd that you should not have mentioned it yourself."</p> + +<p>"I did not, certainly; nor you, papa, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>Mr Harding acknowledged that he had not spoken of it, and then they +calculated that perhaps she might not have received any letter from +her husband written since the news had reached him. "Besides, why +should he have mentioned it?" said the major. "He only knows as yet +of the inquiry about the cheque, and can have heard nothing of what +was done by the magistrates."</p> + +<p>"Still it seems so odd that Eleanor should not have known of it, +seeing that we have been talking of nothing else for the last week," +said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>For two days the major said not a word of Grace Crawley to any one. +Nothing could be more courteous and complaisant than was his father's +conduct to him. Anything that he wanted for Edith was to be done. For +himself there was no trouble which would not be taken. His hunting, +and his shooting, and his fishing seemed to have become matters of +paramount consideration to his father. And then the archdeacon became +very confidential about money matters,—not offering anything to his +son, which, as he well knew, would have been seen through as palpable +bribery and corruption,—but telling him of this little scheme and of +that, of one investment and of another;—how he contemplated buying a +small property here, and spending a few thousands on building there. +"Of course it is all for you and your brother," said the archdeacon, +with that benevolent sadness which is used habitually by fathers on +such occasions; "and I like you to know what it is that I am doing. I +told Charles about the London property the last time I was up," said +the archdeacon, "and there shall be no difference between him and +you, if all goes well." This was very good-natured on the +archdeacon's part, and was not strictly necessary, as Charles was the +eldest son; but the major understood it perfectly. "There shall be an +elysium opened to you, if only you will not do that terrible thing of +which you spoke when last here." The archdeacon uttered no such words +as these, and did not even allude to Grace Crawley; but the words +were as good as spoken, and had they been spoken ever so plainly the +major could not have understood them more clearly. He was quite awake +to the loveliness of the elysium opened before him. He had had his +moment of anxiety, whether his father would or would not make an +elder son of his brother Charles. The whole thing was now put before +him plainly. Give up Grace Crawley, and you shall share alike with +your brother. Disgrace yourself by marrying her, and your brother +shall have everything. There was the choice, and it was still open to +him to take which side he pleased. Were he never to go near Grace +Crawley again no one would blame him, unless it were Miss Prettyman +or Mrs Thorne. "Fill your glass, Henry," said the archdeacon. "You'd +better, I tell you, for there is no more of it left." Then the major +filled his glass and sipped the wine, and swore to himself that he +would go down to Allington at once. What! Did his father think to +bribe him by giving him '20 port? He would certainly go down to +Allington, and he would tell his mother to-morrow morning, or +certainly on the next day, what he was going to do. "Pity it should +all be gone; isn't it, sir?" said the archdeacon to his +father-in-law. "It has lasted my time," said Mr Harding, "and I'm +very much obliged to it. Dear, dear; how well I remember your father +giving the order for it! There were two pipes, and somebody said it +was a heady wine. 'If the prebendaries and rectors can't drink it,' +said your father, 'the curates will.'"</p> + +<p>"Curates indeed!" said the archdeacon. "It's too good for a bishop, +unless one of the right sort."</p> + +<p>"Your father used to say those things, but with him the poorer the +guest the better the cheer. When he had a few clergymen round him, +how he loved to make them happy!"</p> + +<p>"Never talked shop to them,—did he?" said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Not after dinner, at any rate. Goodness gracious, when one thinks of +it! Do you remember how we used to play cards?"</p> + +<p>"Every night regularly;—threepenny points, and sixpence on the +rubber," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear! How things are changed! And I remember when the +clergymen did more of the dancing in Barchester than all the other +young men in the city put together."</p> + +<p>"And a good set they were;—gentlemen every one of them. It's well +that some of them don't dance now;—that is, for the girls' sake."</p> + +<p>"I sometimes sit and wonder," said Mr Harding, "whether your father's +spirit ever comes back to the old house and sees the changes,—and if +so whether he approves them."</p> + +<p>"Approves them!" said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes. I think he would, upon the whole. I'm sure of this: he +would not disapprove, because the new ways are changed from his ways. +He never thought himself infallible. And do you know, my dear, I am +not sure that it isn't all for the best. I sometimes think that some +of us were very idle when we were young. I was, I know."</p> + +<p>"I worked hard enough," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; you. But most of us took it very easily. Dear, dear! When I +think of it, and see how hard they work now, and remember what +pleasant times we used to have,—I don't feel sometimes quite sure."</p> + +<p>"I believe the work was done a great deal better than it is now," +said the archdeacon. "There wasn't so much fuss, but there was more +reality. And men were men, and clergymen were gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—they were gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"Such a creature as that old woman at the palace couldn't have held +his head up among us. That's what has come from Reform. A reformed +House of Commons makes Lord Brock Prime Minister, and then your Prime +Minister makes Dr Proudie a bishop! Well;—it will last my time, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>"It has lasted mine,—like the wine," said Mr Harding.</p> + +<p>"There's one glass more, and you shall have it, sir." Then Mr Harding +drank the last glass of the 1820 port, and they went into the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>On the next morning after breakfast the major went out for a walk by +himself. His father had suggested to him that he should go over to +shoot at Framley, and had offered him the use of everything the +archdeacon possessed in the way of horses, dogs, guns and carriages. +But the major would have none of these things. He would go out and +walk by himself. "He's not thinking of her; is he?" said the +archdeacon to his wife, in a whisper. "I don't know. I think he is," +said Mrs Grantly. "It will be so much the better for Charles, if he +does," said the archdeacon grimly; and the look of his face as he +spoke was by no means pleasant. "You will do nothing unjust, +archdeacon," said his wife. "I will do as I like with my own," said +he. And then he also went out and took a walk by himself.</p> + +<p>That evening after dinner, there was no 1820 port, and no +recollections of old days. They were rather dull, the three of them, +as they sat together,—and dullness is always more endurable than +sadness. Old Mr Harding went to sleep and the archdeacon was cross. +"Henry," he said, "you haven't a word to throw to a dog." "I've got +rather a headache this evening, sir," said the major. The archdeacon +drank two glasses of wine, one after another, quickly. Then he woke +his father-in-law gently, and went off. "Is there anything the +matter?" asked the old man. "Nothing particular. My father seems a +little cross." "Ah! I've been to sleep, and I oughtn't. It's my +fault. We'll go in and smooth him down." But the archdeacon wouldn't +be smoothed down on that occasion. He would let his son see the +difference between a father pleased, and a father displeased,—or +rather between a father pleasant, and a father unpleasant. "He hasn't +said anything to you, has he?" said the archdeacon that night to his +wife. "Not a word;—as yet." "If he does it without the courage to +tell us, I shall think him a cur," said the archdeacon. "But he did +tell you," said Mrs Grantly, standing up for her favourite son; "and, +for the matter of that, he has courage enough for anything. If he +does it, I shall always say that he has been driven to it by your +threats."</p> + +<p>"That's sheer nonsense," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"It's not nonsense at all," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose I was to hold my tongue and say nothing?" said the +archdeacon; and as he spoke he banged the door between his +dressing-room and Mrs Grantly's bedroom.</p> + +<p>On the first day of the new year Major Grantly spoke his mind to his +mother. The archdeacon had gone into Barchester, having in vain +attempted to induce his son to go with him. Mr Harding was in the +library reading a little and sleeping a little, and dreaming of old +days and old friends, and perhaps, sometimes, of the old wine. Mrs +Grantly was alone in a small sitting-room which she frequented +upstairs, when suddenly her son entered the room. "Mother," he said, +"I think it better to tell you that I am going to Allington."</p> + +<p>"To Allington, Henry?" She knew very well who was at Allington, and +what must be the business which would take him there.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother. Miss Crawley is there, and there are circumstances +which make it incumbent on me to see her without delay."</p> + +<p>"What circumstances, Henry?"</p> + +<p>"As I intend to ask her to be my wife, I think it best to do so now. +I owe it to her and to myself that she should not think that I am +deterred by her father's position."</p> + +<p>"But would it not be reasonable that you should be deterred by her +father's position?"</p> + +<p>"No, I think not. I think it would be dishonest as well as +ungenerous. I cannot bring myself to brook such delay. Of course I am +alive to the misfortune which has fallen upon her,—upon her and me, +too, should she ever become my wife. But it is one of those burdens +which a man should have shoulders broad enough to bear."</p> + +<p>"Quite so, if she were your wife, or even if you were engaged to her. +Then honour would require it of you, as well as affection. As it is, +your honour does not require it, and I think you should hesitate, for +all our sakes, and especially for Edith's."</p> + +<p>"It will do Edith no harm; and, mother, if you alone were concerned, +I think you would feel that it would not hurt you."</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of myself, Henry."</p> + +<p>"As for my father, the very threats which he has used make me +conscious that I have only to measure the price. He has told me that +he will stop my allowance."</p> + +<p>"But that may not be the worst. Think how you are situated. You are +the younger son of a man who will be held to be justified in making +an elder son, if he thinks fit to do so."</p> + +<p>"I can only hope that he will be fair to Edith. If you will tell him +that from me, it is all that I will ask you to do."</p> + +<p>"But you will see him yourself?"</p> + +<p>"No, mother; not till I have been to Allington. Then I will see him +again or not, just as he pleases. I shall stop at Guestwick, and will +write to you a line from thence. If my father decides on doing +anything, let me know at once, as it will be necessary that I should +get rid of the lease of my house."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Henry!"</p> + +<p>"I have thought a great deal about it, mother, and I believe I am +right. Whether I am right or wrong, I shall do it. I will not ask you +now for any promise or pledge; but should Miss Crawley become my +wife, I hope that you at least will not refuse to see her as your +daughter." Having so spoken, he kissed his mother, and was about to +leave the room; but she held him by his arm, and he saw that her eyes +were full of tears. "Dearest mother, if I grieve you I am sorry +indeed."</p> + +<p>"Not me, not me, not me," she said.</p> + +<p>"For my father, I cannot help it. Had he not threatened me I should +have told him also. As he has done so, you must tell him. But give +him my kindest love."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Henry; you will be ruined. You will, indeed. Can you not wait? +Remember how headstrong your father is, and yet how good;—and how he +loves you! Think of all that he has done for you. When did he refuse +you anything?"</p> + +<p>"He has been good to me, but in this I cannot obey him. He should not +ask me."</p> + +<p>"You are wrong. You are indeed. He has a right to expect that you +will not bring disgrace upon the family."</p> + +<p>"Nor will I;—except such disgrace as may attend upon poverty. +Good-by, mother. I wish you could have said one kind word to me."</p> + +<p>"Have I not said a kind word?"</p> + +<p>"Not as yet, mother."</p> + +<p>"I would not for worlds speak unkindly to you. If it were not for +your father I would bid you bring whom you pleased home to me as your +wife; and I would be as a mother to her. And if this girl should +become your wife<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"It shall not be my fault if she does not."</p> + +<p>"I will try to love her—some day."</p> + +<p>Then the major went, leaving Edith at the rectory, as requested by +his mother. His own dog-cart and servant were at Plumstead, and he +drove himself home to Cosby Lodge.</p> + +<p>When the archdeacon returned the news was told to him at once. "Henry +has gone to Allington to propose to Miss Crawley," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"Gone,—without speaking to me!"</p> + +<p>"He left his love, and said that it was useless his remaining, as he +knew he should only offend you."</p> + +<p>"He has made his bed, and he must lie upon it," said the archdeacon. +And then there was not another word said about Grace Crawley on that +occasion.</p> + + +<p><a name="c23" id="c23"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII</h3> +<h3>Miss Lily Dale's Resolution<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The ladies at the Small House at Allington breakfasted always at +nine,—a liberal nine; and the postman whose duty it was to deliver +letters in that village at half-past eight, being also liberal in his +ideas as to time, always arrived punctually in the middle of +breakfast, so that Mrs Dale expected her letters, and Lily hers, just +before their second cup of tea, as though the letters formed a part +of the morning meal. Jane, the maidservant, always brought them in, +and handed them to Mrs Dale,—for Lily had in these days come to +preside at the breakfast table; and then there would be an +examination of the outsides before the envelopes were violated, and +as each knew pretty well all the circumstances of the correspondence +of the other, there would be some guessing as to what this or that +epistle might contain; and after that a reading out loud of passages, +and not unfrequently of the entire letter. But now, at the time of +which I am speaking, Grace Crawley was at the Small House, and +therefore the common practice was somewhat in abeyance.</p> + +<p>On one of the first days of the new year Jane brought in the letters +as usual, and handed them to Mrs Dale. Lily was at the time occupied +with the teapot, but still she saw the letters, and had not her hands +so full as to be debarred from the expression of her usual anxiety. +"Mamma, I'm sure I see two there for me," she said. "Only one for +you, Lily," said Mrs Dale. Lily instantly knew from the tone of the +voice that some letter had come, which by the very aspect of the +handwriting had disturbed her mother. "There is one for you, my +dear," said Mrs Dale, throwing a letter across the table to Grace. +"And one for you, Lily, from Bell. The others are for me." "And whom +are you yours from, mamma?" asked Lily. "One is from Mrs Jones; the +other, I think, is a letter on business." Then Lily said nothing +further, but she observed that her mother only opened one of her +letters at the breakfast-table. Lily was very patient;—not by +nature, I think, but by exercise and practice. She had, once in her +life, been too much in a hurry; and having then burned herself +grievously, she now feared the fire. She did not therefore follow her +mother after breakfast, but sat with Grace over the fire, hemming +diligently at certain articles of clothing which were intended for +use in the Hogglestock parsonage. The two girls were making a set of +new shirts for Mr Crawley. "But I know he will ask where they come +from," said Grace; "and then mamma will be scolded." "But I hope +he'll wear them," said Lily. "Sooner of later he will," said Grace; +"because mamma manages generally to have her way at last." Then they +went on for an hour or so, talking about the home affairs at +Hogglestock. But during the whole time Lily's mind was intent upon +her mother's letter.</p> + +<p>Nothing was said about it at lunch, and nothing when they walked out +after lunch, for Lily was very patient. But during the walk Mrs Dale +became aware that her daughter was uneasy. These two watched each +other unconsciously with a closeness which hardly allowed a glance of +the eye, certainly not a tone of the voice, to pass unobserved. To +Mrs Dale it was everything in the world that her daughter should be, +if not happy at heart, at least tranquil; and to Lily, who knew that +her mother was always thinking of her, and of her alone, her mother +was the only human divinity now worthy of adoration. But nothing was +said about the letter during the walk.</p> + +<p>When they came home it was nearly dusk, and it was their habit to sit +up for a while without candles, talking, till the evening had in +truth set in and the unmistakable and enforced idleness of remaining +without candles was apparent. During this time, Lily, demanding +patience of herself all the while, was thinking what she would do, or +rather what she would say, about the letter. That nothing would be +done or said in the presence of Grace Crawley was a matter of course, +nor would she do or say anything to get rid of Grace. She would be +very patient; but she would, at last, ask her mother about the +letter.</p> + +<p>And then, as luck would have it, Grace Crawley got up and left the +room. Lily still waited for a few minutes, and, in order that her +patience might be thoroughly exercised, she said a word or two about +her sister Bell; how the eldest child's whooping-cough was nearly +well, and how the baby was doing wonderful things with its first +tooth. But as Mrs Dale had already seen Bell's letter, all this was +not intensely interesting. At last Lily came to the point and asked +her question. "Mamma, from whom was that other letter which you got +this morning?"</p> + +<p>Our story will perhaps be best told by communicating the letter to +the reader before it was discussed with Lily. The letter was as +follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">General Committee +Office</span>,<br /> +–– January, 186––<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>I should have said that Mrs Dale had not opened the letter till she +had found herself in the solitude of her own bedroom; and that then, +before doing so, she had examined the handwriting with anxious eyes. +When she first received it she thought she knew the writer, but was +not sure. Then she had glanced at the impression over the fastening, +and had known at once from whom the letter had come. It was from Mr +Crosbie, the man who had brought so much trouble into her house, who +had jilted her daughter; the only man in the world whom she had a +right to regard as a positive enemy to herself. She had no doubt +about it, as she tore the envelope open; and yet, when the address +given made her quite sure, a new feeling of shivering came upon her, +and she asked herself whether it might not be better that she should +send his letter back to him without reading it. But she read +it.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Madam</span> +[the letter began],—</p> + +<p>You will be very much surprised to hear from me, and I am +quite aware that I am not entitled to the ordinary +courtesy of an acknowledgement from you, should you be +pleased to throw my letter on one side as unworthy of your +notice. But I cannot refrain from addressing you, and must +leave it to you to reply or not, as you may think fit.</p> + +<p>I will only refer to that episode of my life with which +you are acquainted, for the sake of acknowledging my great +fault and of assuring you that I did not go unpunished. It +would be useless for me now to attempt to explain to you +the circumstances which led me into that difficulty which +ended in so great a blunder; but I will ask you to believe +that my folly was greater than my sin.</p> + +<p>But I will come to my point at once. You are, no doubt, +aware that I married a daughter of Lord De Courcy, and +that I was separated from my wife a few weeks after our +unfortunate marriage. It is now something over twelve +months since she died at Baden-Baden in her mother's +house. I never saw her since the day we first parted. I +have not a word to say against her. The fault was mine in +marrying a woman whom I did not love and had never loved. +When I married Lady Alexandrina I loved, not her, but your +daughter.</p> + +<p>I believe I may venture to say to you that your daughter +once loved me. From the day on which I last wrote to you +that terrible letter which told you of my fate, I have +never mentioned the name of Lily Dale to human ears. It +has been too sacred for my mouth,—too sacred for the +intercourse of any friendship with which I have been +blessed. I now use it for the first time to you, in order +that I may ask whether it be possible that her old love +should ever live again. Mine has lived always,—has never +faded for an hour, making me miserable during the years +that have passed since I saw her, but capable of making me +very happy, if I may be allowed to see her again.</p> + +<p>You will understand my purpose now as well as though I +were to write pages. I have no scheme formed in my head +for seeing your daughter again. How can I dare to form a +scheme, when I am aware that the chance of success must be +so strong against me? But if you will tell me that there +can be a gleam of hope, I will obey any commands that you +can put upon me in any way that you may point out. I am +free again,—and she is free. I love her with all my +heart, and seem to long for nothing in the world but that +she should become my wife. Whether any of her old love may +still abide with her, you will know. If it do, it may even +yet prompt her to forgive one who, in spite of falseness +of conduct, has yet been true to her in heart.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">I have the honour +to be, Madam,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12">Your most obedient servant,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Adolphus +Crosbie</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This was the letter which Mrs Dale had received, and as to which she +had not as yet said a word to Lily, or even made up her mind whether +she would say a word or not. Dearly as the mother and daughter loved +each other, thorough as was the confidence between them, yet the name +of Adolphus Crosbie had not been mentioned between them oftener, +perhaps, than half-a-dozen times since the blow had been struck. Mrs +Dale knew that their feelings about the man were altogether +different. She, herself, not only condemned him for what he had done, +believing it to be impossible that any shadow of excuse could be +urged for his offence, thinking that the fault had shown the man to +be mean beyond redemption,—but she had allowed herself actually to +hate him. He had in one sense murdered her daughter, and she believed +that she could never forgive him. But, Lily, as her mother well knew, +had forgiven this man altogether, had made excuses for him which +cleansed his sin of all its blackness in her own eyes, and was to +this day anxious as ever for his welfare and his happiness. Mrs Dale +feared that Lily did in truth love him still. If it was so, was she +not bound to show her this letter? Lily was old enough to judge for +herself,—old enough, and wise enough too. Mrs Dale told herself +half-a-score of times that morning that she could not be justified in +keeping the letter from her daughter.</p> + +<p>But yet much she much wished that the letter had never been written, +and would have given very much to be able to put it out of the way +without injustice to Lily. To her thinking it would be impossible +that Lily should be happy marrying such a man. Such a marriage now +would be, as Mrs Dale thought, a degradation to her daughter. A +terrible injury had been done to her; but such reparation as this +would, in Mrs Dale's eyes, only make the injury deeper. And yet Lily +loved the man; and, loving him, how could she resist the temptation +of his offer? "Mamma, from whom was that letter which you got this +morning?" Lily asked. For a few moments Mrs Dale remained silent. +"Mamma," continued Lily, "I think I know whom it was from. If you +tell me to ask nothing further, of course I will not."</p> + +<p>"No, Lily; I cannot tell you that."</p> + +<p>"Then, mamma, out with it at once. What is the use of shivering on +the brink?"</p> + +<p>"It was from Mr Crosbie."</p> + +<p>"I knew it. I cannot tell you why, but I knew it. And now, mamma;—am +I to read it?"</p> + +<p>"You shall do as you please, Lily."</p> + +<p>"Then I please to read it."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me a moment first. For myself, I wish that the letter had +never been written. It tells badly for the man, as I think of it. I +cannot understand how any man could have brought himself to address +either you or me, after having acted as he acted."</p> + +<p>"But, mamma, we differ about all that, you know."</p> + +<p>"Now he has written, and there is the letter,—if you choose to read +it."</p> + +<p>Lily had it in her hand, but she still sat motionless, holding it. +"You think, mamma, I ought not to read it?"</p> + +<p>"You must judge for yourself, dearest."</p> + +<p>"And if I do not read it, what shall you do, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"I shall do nothing;—or, perhaps, I should in such a case +acknowledge it, and tell him that we have nothing more to say to +him."</p> + +<p>"That would be very stern."</p> + +<p>"He has done that which makes some sternness necessary."</p> + +<p>Then Lily was again silent, and still she sat motionless, with the +letter in her hand. "Mamma," she said at last, "if you tell me not to +read it, I will give it back unread. If you bid me exercise my own +judgment, I shall take it upstairs and read it."</p> + +<p>"You must exercise your own judgment," said Mrs Dale. Then Lily got +up from her chair and walked slowly out of the room, and went to her +mother's chamber. The thoughts which passed through Mrs Dale's mind +while her daughter was reading the letter were very sad. She could +find no comfort anywhere. Lily, she had told herself, would surely +give way to this man's renewed expressions of affection, and she, Mrs +Dale herself, would be called upon to give her child to a man whom +she could neither love nor respect;—who, for aught she knew, she +could never cease to hate. And she could not bring herself to believe +that Lily would be happy with such a man. As for her own life, +desolate as it would be,—she cared little for that. Mothers know +that their daughters will leave them. Even widowed mothers, mothers +with but one child left,—such a one as was this mother,—are aware +that they will be left alone, and they can bring themselves to +welcome the sacrifice of themselves with something of satisfaction. +Mrs Dale and Lily had, indeed, of late become bound together +especially, so that the mother had been justified in regarding the +link which joined them as being firmer than that by which most +daughters are bound to their mothers;—but in all that she would have +found no regret. Even now, in these very days, she was hoping that +Lily might yet be brought to give herself to John Eames. But she +could not, after all that was come and gone, be happy in thinking +that Lily should be given to Adolphus Crosbie.</p> + +<p>When Mrs Dale went upstairs to her own room before dinner Lily was +not there; nor were they alone together again that evening except for +a moment, when Lily, as usual, went into her mother's room when she +was undressing. But neither of them then said a word about the +letter. Lily during dinner and throughout the evening had borne +herself well, giving no sign of special emotion, keeping to herself +entirely her own thoughts about the proposition made to her. And +afterwards she had progressed diligently with the fabrication of Mr +Crawley's shirts, as though she had no such letter in her pocket. And +yet there was not a moment in which she was not thinking of it. To +Grace, just before she went to bed, she did say one word. "I wonder +whether it can ever come to a person to be so placed that there can +be no doing right, let what will be done;—that, do or not do, as you +may, it must be wrong?"</p> + +<p>"I hope you are not in such a condition," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"I am something near it," said Lily, "but perhaps if I look long +enough I shall see the light."</p> + +<p>"I hope it will be a happy light at last," said Grace, who thought +that Lily was referring only to John Eames.</p> + +<p>At noon on the next day Lily had still said nothing to her mother +about the letter; and then what she said was very little. "When must +you answer Mr Crosbie, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"When, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"I mean how long may you take? It need not be to-day."</p> + +<p>"No;—certainly not to-day."</p> + +<p>"Then I will talk it over with you to-morrow. It wants some +thinking;—does it not, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"It would not want much with me, Lily."</p> + +<p>"But then, mamma, you are not I. Believing as I believe, feeling as I +feel, it wants some thinking. That's what I mean."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could help you, my dear."</p> + +<p>"You shall help me,—to-morrow." The morrow came and Lily was still +very patient; but she had prepared herself, and had prepared the time +also, so that in the hour of the gloaming she was alone with her +mother, and sure that she might remain alone with her for an hour or +so. "Mamma, sit there," she said; "I will sit down here, and then I +can lean against you and be comfortable. You can bear as much of me +as that,—can't you, mamma?" Then Mrs Dale put her arm over Lily's +shoulder, and embraced her daughter. "And now, mamma, we will talk +about this wonderful letter."</p> + +<p>"I do not know, dear, that I have anything to say about it."</p> + +<p>"But you must have something to say about it, mamma. You must bring +yourself to have something to say,—to have a great deal to say."</p> + +<p>"You know what I think as well as though I talked for a week."</p> + +<p>"That won't do, mamma. Come, you must not be hard with me."</p> + +<p>"Hard, Lily!"</p> + +<p>"I don't mean that you will hurt me, or not give me any food,—or +that you will not go on caring about me more than anything else in +the whole world ten times over;<span class="nowrap">—"</span> +And Lily as she spoke tightened +the embrace of her mother's arm round her neck. "I'm not afraid +you'll be hard in that way. But you must soften your heart so as to +be able to mention his name and talk about him, and tell me what I +ought to do. You must see with my eyes, and hear with my ears, and +feel with my heart;—and then, when I know that you have done that, I +must judge with your judgment."</p> + +<p>"I wish you to use your own."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—because you won't see with my eyes and hear with my ears. +That's what I call being hard. Though you should feed me with blood +from your breast, I should call you a hard pelican, unless you could +give me also the sympathy which I demand from you. You see, mamma, we +have never allowed ourselves to speak of this man."</p> + +<p>"What need has there been, dearest?"</p> + +<p>"Only because we have been thinking of him. Out of the full heart the +mouth speaketh;—that is, the mouth does so when the full heart is +allowed to have its own way comfortably."</p> + +<p>"There are things which should be forgotten."</p> + +<p>"Forgotten, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"The memory of which should not be fostered by much talking."</p> + +<p>"I have never blamed you, mamma; never, even in my heart. I have +known how good and gracious and sweet you have been. But I have often +accused myself of cowardice because I have not allowed his name to +cross my lips either to you or to Bell. To talk of forgetting such an +accident as that is a farce. And as for fostering the memory of it—! +Do you think that I have ever spent a night from that time to this +without thinking of him? Do you imagine that I have ever crossed our +own lawn, or gone down through the garden-path there, without +thinking of the times when he and I walked there together? There +needs no fostering for such memories as those. They are weeds which +will grow rank and strong though nothing be done to foster them. +There is the earth and the rain, and that is enough for them. You +cannot kill them if you would, and they certainly will not die +because you are careful not to hoe and rake the ground."</p> + +<p>"Lily, you forget how short the time has been as yet."</p> + +<p>"I have thought it very long; but the truth is, mamma, that this +non-fostering of memories, as you call it, has not been the real +cause of our silence. We have not spoken of Mr Crosbie because we +have not thought alike about him. Had you spoken you would have +spoken with anger, and I could not endure to hear him abused. That +has been it."</p> + +<p>"Partly so, Lily."</p> + +<p>"Now we must talk of him, and you must not abuse him. We must talk of +him, because something must be done about his letter. Even it be left +unanswered, it cannot be so left without discussion. And yet you must +say no evil of him."</p> + +<p>"Am I to think that he behaved well?"</p> + +<p>"No, mamma; you are not to think that; but you are to look upon his +fault as a fault that has been forgiven."</p> + +<p>"It cannot be forgiven, dear."</p> + +<p>"But, mamma, when you go to heaven—"</p> + +<p>"My dear!"</p> + +<p>"But you will go to heaven, mamma, and why should I not speak of it? +You will go to heaven, and yet I suppose you have been very wicked, +because we are all very wicked. But you won't be told of your +wickedness there. You won't be hated there, because you were this or +that when you were here."</p> + +<p>"I hope not, Lily; but isn't your argument almost profane?"</p> + +<p>"No; I don't think so. We ask to be forgiven just as we forgive. That +is the way in which we hope to be forgiven, and therefore it is the +way in which we ought to forgive. When you say that prayer at night, +mamma, do you ever ask yourself whether you have forgiven him?"</p> + +<p>"I forgive him as far as humanity can forgive. I would do him no +injury."</p> + +<p>"But if you and I are forgiven only after that fashion we shall never +get to heaven." Lily paused for some further answer from her mother, +but as Mrs Dale was silent she allowed that portion of the subject to +pass as completed. "And now, mamma, what answer do you think we ought +to send to his letter?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, how am I to say? You know I have said already that if I +could act on my own judgment, I would send none."</p> + +<p>"But that was said in the bitterness of gall."</p> + +<p>"Come, Lily, say what you think yourself. We shall get on better when +you have brought yourself to speak. Do you think that you wish to see +him again?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, mamma. Upon the whole, I think not."</p> + +<p>"Then in heaven's name let me write and tell him so."</p> + +<p>"Stop a moment, mamma. There are two persons here to be +considered,—or rather, three."</p> + +<p>"I would not have you think of me in such a question."</p> + +<p>"I know you would not; but never mind, and let me go on. The three of +us are concerned, at any rate; you, and he, and I. I am thinking of +him now. We have all suffered, but I do believe that hitherto he has +had the worst of it."</p> + +<p>"And who had deserved the worst?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, how can you go back in that way? We have agreed that that +should be regarded as done and gone. He has been very unhappy, and +now we see what remedy he proposes to himself for his misery. Do I +flatter myself if I allow myself to look at it in that way?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he thinks he is offering a remedy for your misery."</p> + +<p>As this was said Lily turned round slowly and looked up into her +mother's face. "Mamma," she said, "that is very cruel. I did not +think you could be so cruel. How can you, who believe him to be so +selfish, think that?"</p> + +<p>"It is very hard to judge of men's motives. I have never supposed him +to be so black that he would not wish to make atonement for the evil +he has done."</p> + +<p>"If I thought that, there certainly could be but one answer."</p> + +<p>"Who can look into a man's heart and judge all the sources of his +actions? There are mixed feelings there, no doubt. Remorse for what +he has done; regret for what he has lost;—something, perhaps, of the +purity of love."</p> + +<p>"Yes, something,—I hope something,—for his sake."</p> + +<p>"But when a horse kicks and bites, you know his nature and do not go +near him. When a man has cheated you once, you think he will cheat +you again, and you do not deal with him. You do not look to gather +grapes from thistles, after you have found that they are thistles."</p> + +<p>"I still go for the roses though I have often torn my hand with +thorns in looking for them."</p> + +<p>"But you do not pluck those that have become cankered in the +blowing."</p> + +<p>"Because he was once at fault, will he be cankered always?"</p> + +<p>"I would not trust him."</p> + +<p>"Now, mamma, see how different we are; or, rather, how different it +is when one judges for oneself or for another. If it were simply +myself, and my own future fate in life, I would trust him with it all +to-morrow, without a word. I should go to him as a gambler goes to +the gaming-table, knowing that if I lost everything, I could hardly be +poorer than I was before. But I should have a better hope than the +gambler is justified in having. That, however, is not my difficulty. +And when I think of him I can see a prospect for success for the +gambler. I think so well of myself that, loving him, as I do;—yes, +mamma, do not be uneasy;—loving him as I do, I believe I could be a +comfort to him. I think that he might be better with me than without +me. That is, he would be so, if he could teach himself to look back +upon the past as I can do, and to judge of me as I can judge of him."</p> + +<p>"He has nothing, at least, for which to condemn you."</p> + +<p>"But he would have, were I to marry him now. He would condemn me +because I had forgiven him. He would condemn me because I had borne +what he had done to me, and had still loved him,—loved him through +it all. He would feel and know the weakness;—and there is weakness. +I have been weak in not being able to rid myself of him altogether. +He would recognise this after awhile, and would despise me for it. +But he would not see what there is of devotion to him in my being +able to bear the taunts of the world in going back to him, and your +taunts, and my own taunts. I should have to bear his also,—not +spoken aloud, but to be seen in his face and heard in his voice,—and +that I could not endure. If he despised me, and he would, that would +make us both unhappy. Therefore, mamma, tell him not to come; tell +him that he can never come; but, if it be possible, tell him this +tenderly." Then she got up and walked away, as though she were going +out of the room; but her mother had caught her before the door was +opened.</p> + +<p>"Lily," she said, "if you think you can be happy with him, he shall +come."</p> + +<p>"No, mamma, no. I have been looking for the light ever since I read +his letter, and I think I see it. And now, mamma, I will make a clean +breast of it. From the moment in which I heard that that that poor +woman was dead, I have been in a state of flutter. It has been weak +of me, and silly, and contemptible. But I could not help it. I kept +on asking myself whether he would ever think of me now. Well; he has +answered the question; and has so done it that he has forced upon me +the necessity of a resolution. I have resolved, and I believe that I +shall be the better for it."</p> + +<p>The letter which Mrs Dale wrote to Mr Crosbie was as follows:—</p> + +<p>"Mrs Dale presents her compliments to Mr Crosbie, and begs to assure +him that it will not now be possible that he should renew the +relations which were broken off three years ago, between him and Mrs +Dale's family." It was very short, certainly, and it did not by any +means satisfy Mrs Dale. But she did not know how to say more without +saying too much. The object of her letter was to save him the trouble +of a futile perseverance, and them from the annoyance of persecution; +and this she wished to do without mentioning her daughter's name. And +she was determined that no word should escape her in which there was +any touch of severity, any hint of an accusation. So much she owed to +Lily in return for all that Lily was prepared to abandon. "There is +my note," she said at last, offering it to her daughter. "I did not +mean to see it," said Lily, "and, mamma, I will not read it now. Let +it go. I know you have been good and have not scolded him." "I have +not scolded him, certainly," said Mrs Dale. And then the letter was +sent.</p> + + +<p><a name="c24" id="c24"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV</h3> +<h3>Mrs Dobbs Broughton's Dinner-party<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Mr John Eames, of the Income-tax Office, had in these days risen so +high in the world that people in the west-end of town, and very +respectable people too,—people living in South Kensington, in +neighbourhoods not far from Belgravia, and in very handsome houses +round Bayswater,—were glad to ask him out to dinner. Money had been +left to him by an earl, and rumour had of course magnified that +money. He was a private secretary, which is in itself a great advance +on being a mere clerk. And he had become the particularly intimate +friend of an artist who had pushed himself into high fashion during +the last year or two,—one Conway Dalrymple, whom the rich English +world was beginning to pet and pelt with gilt sugar-plums, and who +seemed to take very kindly to petting and gilt sugar-plums. I don't +know whether the friendship of Conway Dalrymple had not done as much +to secure John Eames his position at the Bayswater dinner-tables, as +had either the private secretaryship, or the earl's money; and yet, +when they had first known each other, now only two or three years +ago, Conway Dalrymple had been the poorer man of the two. Some chance +had brought them together, and they had lived in the same rooms for +nearly two years. This arrangement had been broken up, and the Conway +Dalrymple of these days had a studio of his own, somewhere near +Kensington Palace, where he painted portraits of young countesses, +and in which he had even painted a young duchess. It was the peculiar +merit of his pictures,—so at least said the art-loving world,—that +though the likeness was always good, the stiffness of the modern +portrait was never there. There was also ever some story told in +Dalrymple's pictures over and above the story of the portraiture. +This countess was drawn as a fairy with wings, that countess as a +goddess with a helmet. The thing took for a time, and Conway +Dalrymple was picking up his gilt sugar-plums with considerable +rapidity.</p> + +<p>On a certain day he and John Eames were to dine out together at a +certain house in that Bayswater district. It was a large mansion, if +not made of stone yet looking very stony, with thirty windows at +least, all of them with cut-stone frames, requiring, let me say, at +least four thousand a year for its maintenance. And its owner, Dobbs +Broughton, a man very well known both in the City and over the grass +in Northamptonshire, was supposed to have a good deal more than four +thousand a year. Mrs Dobbs Broughton, a very beautiful woman, who +certainly was not yet thirty-five, let her worst enemies say what +they might, had been painted by Conway Dalrymple as a Grace. There +were, of course, three Graces in the picture, but each Grace was Mrs +Dobbs Broughton repeated. We all know how Graces stand sometimes; two +Graces looking one way, and one the other. In this picture, Mrs Dobbs +Broughton as centre Grace looked you full in the face. The same lady +looked away from you, displaying her left shoulder as one side Grace, +and displaying her right shoulder as the other Grace. For this pretty +toy Mr Conway Dalrymple had picked up a gilt sugar-plum to the tune +of six hundred pounds, and had, moreover, won the heart both of Mr +and Mrs Dobbs Broughton. "Upon my word, Johnny," Dalrymple had said +to his friend, "he's a deuced good fellow, has really a good glass of +claret,—which is getting rarer and rarer every day,—and will mount +you for a day, whenever you please, down at Market Harboro'. Come and +dine with them." Johnny Eames condescended, and did go and dine with +Mr Dobbs Broughton. I wonder whether he remembered, when Conway +Dalrymple was talking of the rarity of good claret, how much beer the +young painter used to drink when they were out together in the +country, as they used to be occasionally, three years ago; and how +the painter had then been used to complain that bitter cost +threepence a glass, instead of twopence, which had hitherto been the +recognised price of the article. In those days the sugar-plums had +not been gilt, and had been much rarer.</p> + +<p>Johnny Eames and his friend went together to the house of Mr Dobbs +Broughton. As Dalrymple lived close to the Broughtons, Eames picked +him up in a cab. "Filthy things, these cabs are," said Dalrymple, as +he got into the hansom.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that," said Johnny. "They're pretty good, I +think."</p> + +<p>"Foul things," said Conway. "Don't you feel what a draught comes in +here because the glass is cracked. I'd have one of my own, only I +should never know what to do with it."</p> + +<p>"The greatest nuisance on earth, I should think," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"If you could always have it standing ready round the corner," said +the artist, "it would be delightful. But one would want half-a-dozen +horses, and two or three men for that."</p> + +<p>"I think the stands are the best," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>They were a little late,—a little later than they should have been +had they considered that Eames was to be introduced to his new +acquaintances. But he had already lived long enough before the world +to be quite at his ease in such circumstances, and he entered Mrs +Broughton's drawing-room with his pleasantest smile upon his face. +But as he entered he saw a sight which made him look serious in spite +of his efforts to the contrary. Mr Adolphus Crosbie, secretary to the +Board at the General Committee Office, was standing on the rug before +the fire.</p> + +<p>"Who will be there?" Eames had asked of his friend, when the +suggestion to go and dine with Dobbs Broughton had been made to him.</p> + +<p>"Impossible to say," Conway had replied. "A certain horrible fellow +of the name of Musselboro, will almost certainly be there. He always +is when they have anything of a swell dinner-party. He is a sort of +partner of Broughton's in the City. He wears a lot of chains, and has +elaborate whiskers, and an elaborate waistcoat, which is worse; and +he doesn't wash his hands as often as he ought to do."</p> + +<p>"An objectionable party, rather, I should say," said Eames.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; Musselboro is objectionable. He's very good-humoured you +know, and good-looking in a sort of way, and goes everywhere; that is +among people of this sort. Of course he's not hand-and-glove with +Lord Derby; and I wish he could be made to wash his hands. They +haven't any other standing dish, and you may meet anybody. They +always have a Member of Parliament; they generally manage to catch a +Baronet; and I have met a Peer there. On that august occasion +Musselboro was absent."</p> + +<p>So instructed, Eames, on entering that room, looked round at once for +Mr Musselboro. "If I don't see the whiskers and chain," he had said, +"I shall know there's a Peer." Mr Musselboro was in the room, but +Eames had descried Mr Crosbie long before he had seen Mr Musselboro.</p> + +<p>There was no reason for confusion on his part in meeting Crosbie. +They had both loved Lily Dale. Crosbie might have been successful, +but for his own fault. Eames had on one occasion been thrown into +contact with him, and on that occasion had quarrelled with him and +had beaten him, giving him a black eye, and in this way obtaining +some mastery over him. There was no reason why he should be ashamed +of meeting Crosbie; and yet, when he saw him, the blood mounted all +over his face, and he forgot to make any further search for Mr +Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"I am so much obliged to Mr Dalrymple for bringing you," said Mrs +Dobbs Broughton very sweetly, "only he ought to have come sooner. +Naughty man! I know it was his fault. Will you take Miss Demolines +down? Miss Demolines,—Mr Eames."</p> + +<p>Mr Dobbs Broughton was somewhat sulky and had not welcomed our hero +very cordially. He was beginning to think that Conway Dalrymple gave +himself airs and did not sufficiently understand that a man who had +horses at Market Harboro' and '41 Lafitte was at any rate as good as +a painter who was pelted with gilt sugar-plums for painting +countesses. But he was a man whose ill-humour never lasted long, and +he was soon pressing his wine on Johnny Eames as though he loved him +dearly.</p> + +<p>But there was yet a few minutes before they went down to dinner, and +Johnny Eames, as he endeavoured to find something to say to Miss +Demolines,—which was difficult, as he did not in the least know Miss +Demolines' line of conversation,—was aware that his efforts were +impeded by thoughts of Mr Crosbie. The man looked older than when he +had last seen him,—so much older that Eames was astonished. He was +bald, or becoming bald; and his whiskers were grey, or were becoming +grey, and he was much fatter. Johnny Eames, who was always thinking +of Lily Dale, could not now keep himself from thinking of Adolphus +Crosbie. He saw at a glance that the man was in mourning, though +there was nothing but his shirt-studs by which to tell it; and he +knew that he was in mourning for his wife. "I wish she might have +lived for ever," Johnny said to himself.</p> + +<p>He had not yet been definitely called upon by the entrance of the +servant to offer his arm to Miss Demolines, when Crosbie walked +across to him from the rug and addressed him.</p> + +<p>"Mr Eames," said he, "it is some time since we met." And he offered +his hand to Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is" said Johnny, accepting the proffered salutation. "I +don't know exactly how long, but ever so long."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to have the opportunity of shaking hands with you," +said Crosbie; and then he retired, as it had become his duty to wait +with his arm ready for Mrs Dobbs Broughton. Having married an earl's +daughter he was selected for that honour. There was a barrister in +the room, and Mrs Dobbs Broughton ought to have known better. As she +professed to be guided in such matters by the rules laid down by the +recognised authorities, she ought to have been aware that a man takes +no rank from his wife. But she was entitled I think to merciful +consideration for her error. A woman situated as was Mrs Dobbs +Broughton cannot altogether ignore these terrible rules. She cannot +let her guests draw lots for precedence. She must select some one for +the honour of her own arm. And amidst the intricacies of rank how is +it possible for woman to learn and to remember everything? If +Providence would only send Mrs Dobbs Broughton a Peer for every +dinner-party, the thing would go more easily; but what woman will +tell me, off-hand, which should go out of a room first: a C.B., an +Admiral of the Blue, the Dean of Barchester, or the Dean of Arches? +Who is to know who was everybody's father? How am I to remember that +young Thompson's progenitor was made a baronet and not a knight when +he was Lord Mayor? Perhaps Mrs Dobbs Broughton ought to have known +that Mr Crosbie could have gained nothing by his wife's rank, and the +barrister may be considered to have been not immoderately severe when +he simply spoke of her afterwards as the silliest and most ignorant +old woman he had ever met in his life. Eames with the lovely Miss +Demolines on his arm was the last to move before the hostess. Mr +Dobbs Broughton had led the way energetically with old Lady +Demolines. There was no doubt about Lady Demolines,—as his wife had +told him, because her title marked her. Her husband had been a +physician in Paris, and had been knighted in consequence of some +benefit supposed to have been done to some French scion of +royalty,—when such scions in France were royal and not imperial. +Lady Demolines' rank was not much certainly; but it served to mark +her, and was beneficial.</p> + +<p>As he went downstairs Eames was still thinking of his meeting with +Crosbie, and had as yet hardly said a word to his neighbour, and his +neighbour had not said a word to him. Now Johnny understood dinners +quite well enough to know that in a party of twelve, among whom six +are ladies, everything depends of your next neighbour, and generally +on the next neighbour who specially belongs to you; and as he took +his seat he was a little alarmed as to his prospect for the next two +hours. On his other hand sat Mrs Ponsonby, the barrister's wife, and +he did not much like the look of Mrs Ponsonby. She was fat, heavy, +and good-looking; with a broad space between her eyes, and light +smooth hair;—a youthful British matron every inch of her, of whom +any barrister with a young family of children might be proud. Now +Miss Demolines, though she was hardly to be called beautiful, was at +any rate remarkable. She had large, dark, well-shaped eyes, and very +dark hair, which she wore tangled about in an extraordinary manner, +and she had an expressive face,—a face made expressive by the +owner's will. Such power of expression is often attained by dint of +labour,—though it never reaches to the expression of anything in +particular. She was almost sufficiently good-looking to be justified +in considering herself a beauty.</p> + +<p>But Miss Demolines, though she had said nothing as yet, knew her game +very well. A lady cannot begin conversation to any good purpose in +the drawing-room, when she is seated and the man is standing;—nor +can she know then how the table may subsequently arrange itself. +Powder may be wasted, and often is wasted, and the spirit rebels +against the necessity of commencing a second enterprise. But Miss +Demolines, when she found herself seated, and perceived that on the +other side of her was Mr Ponsonby, a married man, commenced her +enterprise at once, and our friend John Eames was immediately aware +that he would have no difficulty as to conversation.</p> + +<p>"Don't you like winter dinner-parties?" began Miss Demolines. This +was said just as Johnny was taking his seat, and he had time to +declare that he liked dinner-parties at all periods of the year if +the dinner was good and the people pleasant before the host had +muttered something which was intended to be understood to be a grace. +"But I mean especially the winter," continued Miss Demolines. "I +don't think daylight should ever be admitted at a dinner-table; and +though you may shut out the daylight, you can't shut out the heat. +And then there are always so many other things to go to in May and +June and July. Dinners should be stopped by Act of Parliament for +those three months. I don't care what people do afterwards, because +we always fly away on the first of August."</p> + +<p>"That is good-natured on your part."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure what I say would be for the good of society;—but at this +time of the year a dinner is warm and comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Very comfortable, I think."</p> + +<p>"And people get to know each other;"—in saying which Miss Demolines +looked very pleasantly up into Johnny's face.</p> + +<p>"There is a great deal in that," said he. "I wonder whether you and I +will get to know each other."</p> + +<p>"Of course we shall;—that is, if I'm worth knowing."</p> + +<p>"There can be no doubt about that, I should say."</p> + +<p>"Time alone can tell. But, Mr Eames, I see that Mr Crosbie is a +friend of yours."</p> + +<p>"Hardly a friend."</p> + +<p>"I know very well that men are friends when they step up and shake +hands with each other. It is the same when women kiss."</p> + +<p>"When I see women kiss, I always think that there is deep hatred at +the bottom of it."</p> + +<p>"And there may be deep hatred between you and Mr Crosbie for anything +I know to the contrary," said Miss Demolines.</p> + +<p>"The very deepest," said Johnny, pretending to look grave.</p> + +<p>"Ah; then I know he is your bosom friend, and that you will tell him +anything I say. What a strange history that was of his marriage!"</p> + +<p>"So I have heard;—but he is not quite bosom friend enough with me to +have told me all the particulars. I know that his wife is dead."</p> + +<p>"Dead; oh, yes; she has been dead these two years I should say."</p> + +<p>"Not so long as that, I should think."</p> + +<p>"Well,—perhaps not. But it's ever so long ago;—quite long enough +for him to be married again. Did you know her?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw her in my life."</p> + +<p>"I knew her,—not well indeed; but I am intimate with her sister, +Lady Amelia Gazebee, and I have met her there. None of that family +have married what you may call well. And now, Mr Eames, pray look at +the menu and tell me what I am to eat. Arrange for me a little dinner +of my own, out of the great bill of fare provided. I always expect +some gentleman to do that for me. Mr Crosbie, you know, only lived +with his wife for one month."</p> + +<p>"So I've been told."</p> + +<p>"And a terrible month they had of it. I used to hear of it. He +doesn't look that sort of man, does he?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—no. I don't think he does. But what sort of man do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why, such a regular Bluebeard! Of course you know how he treated +another girl before he married Lady Alexandrina. She died of +it,—with a broken heart; absolutely died; and there he is, +indifferent as possible;—and would treat me in the same way +to-morrow if I would let him."</p> + +<p>Johnny Eames, finding it impossible to talk to Miss Demolines about +Lily Dale, took up the card of the dinner and went to work in +earnest, recommending his neighbour what to eat and what to pass by. +"But you've skipped the pâté?" she said, with energy.</p> + +<p>"Allow me to ask you to choose mine for me instead. You are much more +fit to do it." And she did choose his dinner for him.</p> + +<p>They were sitting at a round table, and in order that the ladies and +gentlemen should alternate themselves properly, Mr Musselboro was +opposite to the host. Next to him on his right was old Mrs Van +Siever, the widow of a Dutch merchant, who was very rich. She was a +ghastly thing to look at, as well from the quantity as from the +nature of the wiggeries which she wore. She had not only a false +front, but long false curls, as to which it cannot be conceived that +she would suppose that any one would be ignorant as to their +falseness. She was very thin, too, and very small, and putting aside +her wiggeries, you would think her to be all eyes. She was a ghastly +old woman to the sight, and not altogether pleasant in her mode of +talking. She seemed to know Mr Musselboro very well, for she called +him by his name without any prefix. He had, indeed, begun life as a +clerk in her husband's office.</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't What's-his-name have real silver forks?" she said to +him. Now Mrs What's-his-name,—Mrs Dobbs Broughton we will call +her,—was sitting on the other side of Mr Musselboro, between him and +Mr Crosbie; and, so placed, Mr Musselboro found it rather hard to +answer the question, more especially as he was probably aware that +other questions would follow.</p> + +<p>"What's the use?" said Mr Musselboro. "Everybody has these plated +things now. What's the use of a lot of capital lying dead?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody doesn't. I don't. You know as well as I do, Musselboro, +that the appearance of the thing goes for a great deal. Capital isn't +lying dead as long as people know that you've got it."</p> + +<p>Before answering this Mr Musselboro was driven to reflect that Mrs +Dobbs Broughton would probably hear his reply. "You won't find that +there is any doubt on that head in the City as to Broughton," he +said.</p> + +<p>"I shan't ask in the City, and if I did, I should not believe what +people told me. I think there are sillier folks in the City than +anywhere else. What did he give for that picture upstairs which the +young man painted?"</p> + +<p>"What, Mrs Dobbs Broughton's portrait?"</p> + +<p>"You don't call that a portrait, do you? I mean the one with the +three naked women?" Mr Musselboro glanced round with one eye, and +felt sure that Mrs Dobbs Broughton had heard the question. But the +old woman was determined to have an answer. "How much did he give for +it, Musselboro?"</p> + +<p>"Six hundred pounds, I believe," said Mr Musselboro, looking straight +before him as he answered, and pretending to treat the subject with +perfect indifference.</p> + +<p>"Did he indeed, now? Six hundred pounds! And yet he hasn't got silver +spoons. How things are changed! Tell me, Musselboro, who was that +young man who came in with the painter?"</p> + +<p>Mr Musselboro turned round and asked Mrs Broughton. "A Mr John Eames, +Mrs Van Siever," said Mrs Broughton, whispering across the front of +Mr Musselboro. "He is private secretary to Lord—Lord—Lord—I forget +who. Some one of the Ministers, I know. And he had a great fortune +left him the other day by Lord—Lord—Lord somebody else."</p> + +<p>"All among the lords, I see," said Mrs Van Siever. Then Mrs Dobbs +Broughton drew herself back, remembering some little attack which had +been made on her by Mrs Van Siever when she herself had had the real +lord to dine with her.</p> + +<p>There was a Miss Van Siever there also, sitting between Crosbie and +Conway Dalrymple. Conway Dalrymple had been specially brought there +to sit next to Miss Van Siever. "There's no knowing how much she'll +have," said Mrs Dobbs Broughton, in the warmth of her friendship. +"But it's all real. It is, indeed. The mother is awfully rich."</p> + +<p>"But she's awful in another way, too," said Dalrymple.</p> + +<p>"Indeed she is, Conway." Mrs Dobbs Broughton had got into a way of +calling her young friend by his Christian name. "All the world calls +him Conway," she had said to her husband once when her husband caught +her doing so. "She is awful. Her husband made the business in the +City, when things were very different from what they are now, and I +can't help having her. She has transactions of business with Dobbs. +But there's no mistake about the money."</p> + +<p>"She needn't leave it to her daughter, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"But why shouldn't she? She has nobody else. You might offer to paint +her, you know. She'd make an excellent picture. So much character. +You come and see her."</p> + +<p>Conway Dalrymple had expressed his willingness to meet Miss Van +Siever, saying something, however, as to his present position being +one which did not admit of any matrimonial speculation. Then Mrs +Dobbs Broughton had told him, with much seriousness, that he was +altogether wrong, and that were he to forget himself, or commit +himself, or misbehave himself, there must be an end to their pleasant +intimacy. In answer to which, Mr Dalrymple had said that his Grace +was surely of all Graces the least gracious. And now he had come to +meet Miss Van Siever, and was now seated next to her at table.</p> + +<p>Miss Van Siever, who at this time had perhaps reached her +twenty-fifth year, was certainly a handsome young woman. She was fair +and large, bearing no likeness whatever to her mother. Her features +were regular, and her full, clear eyes had a brilliance of their own, +looking at you always steadfastly and boldly, though very seldom +pleasantly. Her mouth would have been beautiful had it not been too +strong for feminine beauty. Her teeth were perfect,—too +perfect,—looking like miniature walls of carved ivory. She knew the +fault of this perfection, and shewed her teeth as little as she +could. Her nose and chin were finely chiselled, and her head stood +well upon her shoulders. But there was something hard about it all +which repelled you. Dalrymple, when he saw her, recoiled from her, +not outwardly, but inwardly. Yes, she was handsome, as may be a horse +or a tiger; but there was about her nothing of feminine softness. He +could not bring himself to think of taking Clara Van Siever as the +model that was to sit before him for the rest of his life. He +certainly could make a picture of her, as had been suggested by his +friend, Mrs Broughton, but it must be as Judith with the dissevered +head, or as Jael using her hammer over the temple of Sisera. Yes,—he +thought she would do as Jael; and if Mrs Van Siever would throw him a +sugar-plum,—for he would want the sugar-plum, seeing that any other +result was out of the question,—the thing might be done. Such was +the idea of Mr Conway Dalrymple respecting Miss Van Siever,—before +he led her down to dinner.</p> + +<p>At first he found it hard to talk to her. She answered him, and not +with monosyllables. But she answered him without sympathy, or +apparent pleasure in talking. Now the young artist was in the habit +of being flattered by ladies, and expected to have his small talk +made very easy for him. He liked to give himself little airs, and was +not generally disposed to labour very hard at the task of making +himself agreeable.</p> + +<p>"Were you ever painted yet?" he asked her after they had both been +sitting silent for two or three minutes.</p> + +<p>"Was I ever—painted? In what way?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mean rouged, or enamelled, or got up by Madame Rachel; but +have you ever had your portrait taken?"</p> + +<p>"I have been photographed,—of course."</p> + +<p>"That's why I asked you if you had been painted,—so as to make some +little distinction between the two. I am a painter by profession, and +do portraits."</p> + +<p>"So Mrs Broughton told me."</p> + +<p>"I am not asking for a job, you know."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure of that."</p> + +<p>"But I should have thought you would have been sure to have sat to +somebody."</p> + +<p>"I never did. I never thought of doing so. One does those things at +the instigation of one's intimate friends,—fathers, mothers, uncles, +and aunts, and the like."</p> + +<p>"Or husbands, perhaps,—or lovers?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; my intimate friend is my mother, and she would never +dream of such a thing. She hates pictures."</p> + +<p>"Hates pictures!"</p> + +<p>"And especially portraits. And I'm afraid, Mr Dalrymple, she hates +artists."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens; how cruel! I suppose there is some story attached to +it. There has been some fatal likeness,—some terrible +picture,—something in her early days?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the kind, Mr Dalrymple. It is merely the fact that her +sympathies are with ugly things, rather than with pretty things. I +think she loves the mahogany dinner-table better than anything else +in the house; and she likes to have everything dark, and plain, and +solid."</p> + +<p>"And good?"</p> + +<p>"Good of its kind, certainly."</p> + +<p>"If everybody was like your mother, how would the artists live?"</p> + +<p>"There would be none."</p> + +<p>"And the world, you think, would be none the poorer?"</p> + +<p>"I did not speak for myself. I think the world would be very much the +poorer. I am very fond of the ancient masters, though I do not +suppose that I understand them."</p> + +<p>"They are easier understood than the modern, I can tell you. Perhaps +you don't care for modern pictures?"</p> + +<p>"Not in comparison, certainly. If that is uncivil, you have brought +it on yourself. But I do not in truth mean anything derogatory to the +painters of the day. When their pictures are old, they,—that is the +good ones among them,—will be nice also."</p> + +<p>"Pictures are like wine, and want age, you think?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and statues too, and buildings above all things. The colours of +new paintings are so glaring, and the faces are so bright and +self-conscious, that they look to me when I go to the exhibition like +coloured prints in a child's new picture-book. It is the same thing +with buildings. One sees all the points, and nothing is left to the +imagination."</p> + +<p>"I find I have come across a real critic."</p> + +<p>"I hope so; at any rate, I am not a sham one;" and Miss Van Siever as +she said this looked very savage.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't take you to be a sham in anything."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that would be saying a great deal for myself. Who can undertake +to say that he is not a sham in anything?"</p> + +<p>As she said this the ladies were getting up. So Miss Van Siever also +got up, and left Mr Conway Dalrymple to consider whether he could say +or could think of himself that he was not a sham in anything. As +regarded Miss Clara Van Siever, he began to think that he could not +object to paint her portrait, even though there might be no +sugar-plum. He would certainly do it as Jael; and he would, if he +dared, insert dimly in the background some idea of the face of the +mother, half-appearing, half-vanishing, as the spirit of the +sacrifice. He was composing the picture, while Mr Dobbs Broughton was +arranging himself and his bottles.</p> + +<p>"Musselboro," he said, "I'll come up between you and Crosbie. Mr +Eames, though I run away from you, the claret shall remain; or, +rather, it shall flow backwards and forwards as rapidly as you will."</p> + +<p>"I'll keep it moving," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Do; there's a good fellow. It's a nice glass of wine, isn't it? Old +Ramsby, who keeps as good a stock of the stuff as any wine-merchant +in London, gave me a hint, three or four years ago, that he'd a lot +of tidy Bordeaux. It's '41, you know. He had ninety dozen, and I took +it all."</p> + +<p>"What was the figure, Broughton?" said Crosbie, asking the question +which he knew was expected.</p> + +<p>"Well, I only gave one hundred and four for it then; it's worth a +hundred and twenty now. I wouldn't sell a bottle of it for any money. +Come, Dalrymple, pass it round; but fill your glass first."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, no; I don't like it. I'll drink sherry."</p> + +<p>"Don't like it!" said Dobbs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"It's strange, isn't it? But I don't."</p> + +<p>"I thought you particularly told me to drink his claret?" said Johnny +to his friend afterwards.</p> + +<p>"So I did," said Conway; "and wonderfully good wine it is. But I make +it a rule never to eat or drink anything in a man's house when he +praises it himself and tells me the price of it."</p> + +<p>"And I make it a rule never to cut the nose off my own face," said +Johnny.</p> + +<p>Before they went, Johnny Eames had been specially invited to call on +Lady Demolines, and had said that he would do so. "We live in +Porchester Gardens," said Miss Demolines. "Upon my word, I believe +that the farther London stretches in that direction, the farther +mamma will go. She thinks the air so much better. I know it's a long +way."</p> + +<p>"Distance is nothing to me," said Johnny; "I can always set off over +night."</p> + +<p>Conway Dalrymple did not get invited to call on Mrs Van Siever, but +before he left the house he did say a word or two more to his friend +Mrs Broughton as to Clara Van Siever. "She is a fine young woman," he +said; "she is indeed."</p> + +<p>"You have found it out, have you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have found it out. I do not doubt that some day she'll murder +her husband or her mother, or startle the world by some +newly-invented crime; but that only makes her the more interesting."</p> + +<p>"And when you add to that all the old woman's money," said Mrs Dobbs +Broughton, "you think that she might do?"</p> + +<p>"For a picture, certainly. I'm speaking of her simply as a model. +Could we not manage it? Get her once here, without her mother knowing +it, or Broughton, or any one. I've got the subject,—Jael and Sisera, +you know. I should like to put Musselboro in as Sisera, with the nail +half driven in." Mrs Dobbs Broughton declared that the scheme was a +great deal too wicked for her participation, but at last she promised +to think of it.</p> + +<p>"You might as well come up and have a cigar," Dalrymple said, as he +and his friend left Mrs Broughton's house. Johnny said that he would +go up and have a cigar or two. "And now tell me what you think of Mrs +Dobbs Broughton and her set," said Conway.</p> + +<p>"Well; I'll tell you what I think of them. I think they stink of +money, as the people say; but I'm not sure that they've got any all +the same."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he makes a large income."</p> + +<p>"Very likely, and perhaps spends more than he makes. A good deal of +it looked to me like make-believe. There's no doubt about the claret, +but the champagne was execrable. A man is a criminal to have such +stuff handed round to his guests. And there isn't the ring of real +gold about the house."</p> + +<p>"I hate the ring of gold, as you call it," said the artist.</p> + +<p>"So do I,—I hate it like poison; but if it is there, I like it to be +true. There is a sort of persons going now,—and one meets them out +here and there every day of one's life,—who are downright Brummagem +to the ear and to the touch and to the sight, and we recognize them +as such at the very first moment. My honoured lord and master, Sir +Raffle, is one such. There is no mistaking him. Clap him down upon +the counter, and he rings dull and untrue at once. Pardon me, my dear +Conway, if I say the same of your excellent friend Mr Dobbs +Broughton."</p> + +<p>"I think you go a little too far, but I don't deny it. What you mean +is, that he's not a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"I mean a great deal more than that. Bless you, when you come to talk +of a gentleman, who is to define the word? How do I know whether or +no I'm a gentleman myself? When I used to be in Burton Crescent, I +was hardly a gentlemen then,—sitting at the same table with Mrs +Roper and the Lupexes;—do you remember them, and the lovely Amelia?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you were a gentleman, then, as well as now?"</p> + +<p>"You, if you had been painting duchesses then, with a studio in +Kensington Gardens, would not have said so, if you had happened to +come across me. I can't define a gentleman, even in my own mind;—but +I can define the sort of man with whom I think I can live +pleasantly."</p> + +<p>"And poor Dobbs doesn't come within the line?"</p> + +<p>"N—o, not quite; a very nice fellow, I'm quite sure, and I'm very +much obliged to you for taking me there."</p> + +<p>"I never will take you to any house again. And what did you think of +his wife?"</p> + +<p>"That's a horse of another colour altogether. A pretty woman with +such a figure as hers has got a right to be anything she pleases. I +see you are a great favourite."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not;—not especially. I do like her. She wants to make up a +match between me and that Miss Van Siever. Miss Van is to have gold +by the ingot, and jewels by the bushel, and a hatful of bank shares, +and a whole mine in Cornwall, for her fortune."</p> + +<p>"And is very handsome into the bargain."</p> + +<p>"Yes; she's handsome."</p> + +<p>"So is her mother," said Johnny. "If you take the daughter, I'll take +the mother, and see if I can't do you out of a mine or two. +Good-night, old fellow. I'm only joking about old Dobbs. I'll go and +dine there again to-morrow, if you like."</p> + + +<p><a name="c25" id="c25"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV</h3> +<h3>Miss Madalina Demolines<br /> </h3> + + +<p>"I don't think you care two straws about her," Conway Dalrymple said +to his friend John Eames, two days after the dinner-party at Mrs +Dobbs Broughton's. The painter was at work in his studio, and the +private secretary from the Income-tax Office, who was no doubt +engaged on some special mission to the West End on the part of Sir +Raffle Buffle, was sitting in a lounging-chair and smoking a cigar.</p> + +<p>"Because I don't go about with my stockings cross-gartered, and do +that kind of business?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; because you don't do that kind of business, more or +less."</p> + +<p>"It isn't in my line, my dear fellow. I know what you mean, very +well. I daresay, artistically +speaking,<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Don't be an ass, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"Well then, poetically, or romantically, if you like that better,—I +daresay that poetically or romantically I am deficient. I eat my +dinner very well, and I don't suppose I ought to do that; and, if +you'll believe me, I find myself laughing sometimes."</p> + +<p>"I never knew a man who laughed so much. You're always laughing."</p> + +<p>"And that, you think, is a bad sign?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you really care about her. I think you are aware +that you have got a love-affair on hand, and that you hang on to it +rather persistently, having in some way come to a resolution that you +would be persistent. But there isn't much heart in it. I daresay +there was once."</p> + +<p>"And that is your opinion?"</p> + +<p>"You are just like some of those men who for years past have been +going to write a book on some new subject. The intention has been +sincere at first, and it never altogether dies away. But the would-be +author, though he still talks of his work, knows that it will never +be executed, and is very patient under the disappointment. All +enthusiasm about the thing is gone, but he is still known as the man +who is going to do it some day. You are the man who means to marry +Miss Dale in five, ten, or twenty years' time."</p> + +<p>"Now, Conway, all that is thoroughly unfair. The would-be author +talks of his would-be book to everybody. I have never talked of Miss +Dale to any one but you, and one or two very old family friends. And +from year to year, and from month to month, I have done all that has +been in my power to win her. I don't think I shall ever succeed, and +yet I am as determined about it as I was when I first began it,—or +rather much more so. If I do not marry Lily, I shall never marry at +all, and if anybody were to tell me to-morrow that she had made up +her mind to have me, I should well nigh go mad for joy. But I am not +going to give up all my life for love. Indeed the less I can bring +myself to give up for it, the better I shall think of myself. Now +I'll go away and call on old Lady Demolines."</p> + +<p>"And flirt with her daughter."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—flirt with her daughter, if I get the opportunity. Why +shouldn't I flirt with her daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Why not, if you like it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like it,—not particularly, that is; because the young lady +is not very pretty, nor yet very graceful, not yet very wise."</p> + +<p>"She is pretty after a fashion," said the artist, "and if not wise, +she is at any rate clever."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, I do not like her," said John Eames.</p> + +<p>"Then why do you go there?"</p> + +<p>"One has to be civil to people though they are neither pretty nor +wise. I don't mean to insinuate that Miss Demolines is particularly +bad, or indeed that she is worse than young ladies in general. I only +abused her because there was an insinuation in what you said, that I +was going to amuse myself with Miss Demolines in the absence of Miss +Dale. The one thing has nothing to do with the other thing. Nothing +that I shall say to Miss Demolines will at all militate against my +loyalty to Lily."</p> + +<p>"All right, old fellow;—I didn't mean to put you on your purgation. +I want you to look at that sketch. Do you know for whom it is +intended?" Johnny took up a scrap of paper, and having scrutinised it +for a minute or two declared that he had not the slightest idea who +was represented. "You know the subject,—the story that is intended +to be told?" said Dalrymple.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I don't. There's some old fellow seems to be catching +it over the head; but it's all so confused I can't make much of it. +The woman seems to be uncommon angry."</p> + +<p>"Do you ever read your Bible?"</p> + +<p>"Ah dear! not as often as I ought to do. Ah, I see; it's Sisera. I +never could quite believe that story. Jael might have killed Captain +Sisera in his sleep,—for which, by-the-by, she ought to have been +hung, and she might possibly have done it with a hammer and a nail. +But she could not have driven it through, and staked him to the +ground."</p> + +<p>"I've warrant enough for putting it into a picture, at any rate. My +Jael there is intended for Miss Van Siever."</p> + +<p>"Miss Van Siever! Well, it is like her. Has she sat for it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no; not yet. I mean to get her to do so. There's a strength +about her, which would make her sit the part admirably. And I fancy +she would like to be driving a nail into a fellow's head. I think I +shall take Musselboro for a Sisera."</p> + +<p>"You're not in earnest?"</p> + +<p>"He would just do for it. But of course I shan't ask him to sit, as +my Jael would not like it. She would not consent to operate on so +base a subject. So you really are going down to Guestwick?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I start to-morrow. Good-by, old fellow. I'll come and sit for +Sisera if you'll let me;—only Miss Van Jael shall have a blunted +nail, if you please."</p> + +<p>Then Johnny left the artist's room and walked across from Kensington +to Lady Demolines' house. As he went he partly accused himself and +partly excused himself in that matter of his love for Lily Dale. +There were moments of his life in which he felt that he would +willingly die for her,—that life was not worth having without +her,—in which he went about inwardly reproaching fortune for having +treated him so cruelly. Why should she not be his? He half believed +that she loved him. She had almost told him so. She could not surely +still love that other man who had treated her with such vile +falsehood? As he considered the question in all its bearings he +assured himself over and over again that there would be now no fear +of that rival;—and yet he had such fears, and hated Crosbie almost +as much as ever. It was a thousand pities, certainly, that the man +should have been made free by the death of his wife. But it could +hardly be that he should seek Lily again, or that Lily, if so sought, +should even listen to him. But yet there he was, free once more,—an +odious being, whom Johnny was determined to sacrifice to his +vengeance, if cause for such sacrifice should occur. And thus +thinking of the real truth of his love, he endeavoured to excuse +himself to himself from that charge of vagueness and laxness which +his friend Conway Dalrymple had brought against him. And then again +he accused himself of the same sin. If he had been positively in +earnest, with downright manly earnestness, would he have allowed the +thing to drag itself on with a weak uncertain life, as it had done +for the last two or three years? Lily Dale had been a dream to him in +his boyhood; and he had made a reality of his dream as soon as he had +become a man. But before he had been able, as a man, to tell his love +to the girl whom he had loved as a child, another man had intervened, +and his prize had been taken from him. Then the wretched victor had +thrown his treasure away, and he, John Eames, had been content to +stoop to pick it up,—was content to do so now. But there was +something which he felt to be unmanly in the constant stooping. +Dalrymple had told him that he was like a man who is ever writing a +book and yet never writes it. He would make another attempt to get +his book written,—an attempt into which he would throw all his +strength and all his heart. He would do his very best to make Lily +his own. But if he failed now, he would have done with it. It seemed +to him to be below his dignity as a man to be always coveting a thing +which he could not obtain.</p> + +<p>Johnny was informed by the boy in buttons, who opened the door for +him at Lady Demolines', that the ladies were at home, and he was +shown up into the drawing-room. Here he was allowed full ten minutes +to explore the knick-knacks on the table, and open the photograph +book, and examine the furniture, before Miss Demolines made her +appearance. When she did come, her hair was tangled more marvellously +even than when he saw at the dinner-party, and her eyes were darker, +and her cheeks thinner. "I'm afraid mamma won't be able to come +down," said Miss Demolines. "She will be so sorry; but she is not +quite well to-day. The wind is in the east, she says, and when she +says the wind is in the east she always refuses to be well."</p> + +<p>"Then I should tell her it was in the west."</p> + +<p>"But it is in the east."</p> + +<p>"Ah, there I can't help you, Miss Demolines. I never know which is +east, and which is west; and if I did, I shouldn't know from which +point the wind blew."</p> + +<p>"At any rate mamma can't come downstairs, and you must excuse her. +What a very nice woman Mrs Dobbs Broughton is." Johnny acknowledged +that Mrs Dobbs Broughton was charming. "And Mr Broughton is so +good-natured!" Johnny again assented. "I like him of all things," +said Miss Demolines. "So do I," said Johnny;—"I never liked anybody +so much in my life. I suppose one is bound to say that kind of +thing." "Oh, you ill-natured man," said Miss Demolines. "I suppose +you think that poor Mr Broughton is a little—just a little,—you +know what I mean."</p> + +<p>"Not exactly," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do; you know very well what I mean. And of course he is. +How can he help it?"</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow—no. I don't suppose he can help it, or he +would;—wouldn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Of course Mr Broughton had not the advantage of birth or much early +education. All his friends know that, and make allowance accordingly. +When she married him, she was aware of his deficiency, and made up +her mind to put up with it."</p> + +<p>"It was very kind of her; don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"I knew Maria Clutterbuck for years before she was married. Of course +she was very much my senior, but, nevertheless, we were friends. I +think I was hardly more than twelve years old when I first began to +correspond with Maria. She was then past twenty. So you see, Mr +Eames, I make no secret of my age."</p> + +<p>"Why should you?"</p> + +<p>"But never mind that. Everybody knows that Maria Clutterbuck was very +much admired. Of course I'm not going to tell you or any other +gentleman all her history."</p> + +<p>"I was in hopes you were."</p> + +<p>"Then certainly your hopes will be frustrated, Mr Eames. But +undoubtedly when she told us that she was going to take Dobbs +Broughton, we were a little disappointed. Maria Clutterbuck had been +used to a better kind of life. You understand what I mean, Mr Eames?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, exactly;—and yet it's not a bad kind of life, either."</p> + +<p>"No, no; that is true. It has its attractions. She keeps her +carriage, sees a good deal of company, has an excellent house, and +goes abroad for six weeks every year. But you know, Mr Eames, there +is, perhaps, a little uncertainty about it."</p> + +<p>"Life is always uncertain, Miss Demolines."</p> + +<p>"You're quizzing now, I know. But don't you feel now, really, that +City money is always very chancy? It comes and goes so quick."</p> + +<p>"As regards the going, I think that's the same with all money," said +Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Not with land, or the funds. Mamma has every shilling laid out in a +first-class mortgage on land at four per cent. That does make one +feel so secure! The land can't run away."</p> + +<p>"But you think poor Broughton's money may?"</p> + +<p>"It's all speculation, you know. I don't believe she minds it; I +don't indeed. She lives that kind of fevered life now that she likes +excitement. Of course we all know that Mr Dobbs Broughton is not what +we can call an educated gentleman. His manners are against him, and +he is very ignorant. Even dear Maria would admit that."</p> + +<p>"One would perhaps let that pass without asking her opinion at all."</p> + +<p>"She has acknowledged it to me, twenty times. But he is very +good-natured, and lets her do pretty nearly anything that she likes. +I only hope she won't trespass on his good-nature. I do, indeed."</p> + +<p>"You mean, spend too much money?"</p> + +<p>"No; I didn't mean that exactly. Of course she ought to be moderate, +and I hope she is. To that kind of fevered existence profuse +expenditure is perhaps necessary. But I was thinking of something +else. I fear she is a little giddy."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! I should have thought she +was too—too—too<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"You mean too old for anything of that kind. Maria Broughton must be +thirty-three if she's a day."</p> + +<p>"That would make you just twenty-five," said Johnny, feeling +perfectly sure as he said so that the lady whom he was addressing was +at any rate past thirty!</p> + +<p>"Never mind my age, Mr Eames; whether I am twenty-five, or a +hundred-and-five, has nothing to do with poor Maria Clutterbuck. But +now I'll tell you why I mention all this to you. You must have seen +how foolish she is about your friend Mr Dalrymple?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I haven't."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Mr Eames; you have. If she were your wife, would you like +her to call a man Conway? Of course you would not. I don't mean to +say that there's anything in it. I know Maria's principles too well +to suspect that. It's merely because she's flighty and fevered."</p> + +<p>"That fevered existence accounts for it all," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"No doubt it does," said Miss Demolines, with a nod of her head, +which was intended to show that she was willing to give her friend +the full benefit of any excuse which could be offered for her. "But +don't you think you could do something, Mr Eames?"</p> + +<p>"I do something?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you. You and Mr Dalrymple are such friends! If you were just to +point out to him you know<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Point out what? Tell him that he oughtn't to be called Conway? +Because, after all, I suppose that's the worst of it. If you mean to +say that Dalrymple is in love with Mrs Broughton, you never made a +greater mistake in your life."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; not in love. That would be terrible, you know." And Miss +Demolines shook her head sadly. "But there may be so much mischief +done without anything of that kind! Thoughtlessness, you know, Mr +Eames,—pure thoughtlessness! Think of what I have said, and if you +can speak a word to your friend, do. And now I want to ask you +something else. I'm so glad you are come, because circumstances have +seemed to make it necessary that you and I should know each other. We +may be of so much use if we put our heads together." Johnny bowed +when he heard this, but made no immediate reply. "Have you heard +anything about a certain picture that is being planned?" Johnny did +not wish to answer this question, but Miss Demolines paused so long, +and looked so earnestly into his face, that he found himself forced +to say something.</p> + +<p>"What picture?"</p> + +<p>"A certain picture that is—, or, perhaps, that is not to be, painted +by Mr Dalrymple?"</p> + +<p>"I hear so much about Dalrymple's pictures! You don't mean the +portrait of Lady Glencora Palliser? That is nearly finished, and will +be in the Exhibition this year."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean that at all. I mean a picture that has not yet been +begun."</p> + +<p>"A portrait, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"As to that I cannot quite say. It is at any rate to be a likeness. I +am sure you have heard of it. Come, Mr Eames, it would be better that +we should be candid with each other. You remember Miss Van Siever, of +course?"</p> + +<p>"I remember that she dined at the Broughtons."</p> + +<p>"And you have heard of Jael, I suppose, and Sisera?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; in a general way,—in the Bible."</p> + +<p>"And now will you tell me whether you have not heard the names of +Jael and Miss Van Siever coupled together? I see you know all about +it."</p> + +<p>"I have heard of it, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Of course you have. So have I, as you perceive. Now, Mr Eames,"—and +Miss Demolines' voice became tremulously eager as she addressed +him,—"it is your duty, and it is my duty, to take care that that +picture shall never be painted."</p> + +<p>"But why should it not be painted?"</p> + +<p>"You don't know Miss Van Siever, yet."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least."</p> + +<p>"Nor Mrs Van Siever."</p> + +<p>"I never spoke a word to her."</p> + +<p>"I do. I know them both,—well." There was something almost grandly +tragic in Miss Demolines' voice as she thus spoke. "Yes, Mr Eames, I +know them well. If that scheme be continued, it will work terrible +mischief. You and I must prevent it."</p> + +<p>"But I don't see what harm it will do."</p> + +<p>"Think of Conway Dalrymple passing so many hours in Maria's +sitting-room upstairs! The picture is to be painted there, you know."</p> + +<p>"But Miss Van Siever will be present. Won't that make it all right? +What is there wrong about Miss Van Siever?"</p> + +<p>"I won't deny that Clara Van Siever has a certain beauty of her own. +To me she is certainly the most unattractive woman that I ever came +near. She is simply repulsive!" Hereupon Miss Demolines held up her +hand as though she were banishing Miss Van Siever for ever from her +sight, and shuddered slightly. "Men think her handsome, and she is +handsome. But she is false, covetous, malicious, cruel, and +dishonest."</p> + +<p>"What a fiend in petticoats!"</p> + +<p>"You may say that, Mr Eames. And then her mother! Her mother is not +so bad. Her mother is different. But the mother is an odious woman, +too. It was an evil day for Maria Clutterbuck when she first saw +either the mother or the daughter. I tell you that in confidence."</p> + +<p>"But what can I do?" said Johnny, who began to be startled and almost +interested by the eagerness of the woman.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what you can do. Don't let your friend go to Mr +Broughton's house to paint the picture. If he does do it, there will +be mischief come of it. Of course you can prevent him."</p> + +<p>"I should not think of trying to prevent him unless I knew why."</p> + +<p>"She's a nasty proud minx, and it would set her up ever so high,—to +think that she was being painted by Mr Dalrymple! But that isn't the +reason. Maria would get into terrible trouble about it, and there +would be no end of mischief. I must not tell you more now, and if you +do not believe me, I cannot help it. Surely, Mr Eames, my word may be +taken as going for something? And when I ask you to help me in this, +I do expect that you will not refuse me." By this time Miss Demolines +was sitting close to him, and had more than once put her hand upon +his arm in the energy of her eloquence. Then as he remembered that he +had never seen Miss Demolines till the other day, or Miss Van Siever, +or even Mrs Dobbs Broughton, he bethought himself that it was all +very droll. Nevertheless he had no objection to Miss Demolines +putting her hand upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"I never like to interfere in anything that does not seem to be my +own business," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Is not your friend's business your own business? What does +friendship mean if it not so? And when I tell you that it is my +business, mine of right, does that go for nothing with you? I thought +I might depend upon you, Mr Eames; I did indeed." Then again she put +her hand upon his arm, and as he looked into her eyes he began to +think that after all she was good-looking in a certain way. At any +rate she had fine eyes, and there was something picturesque about the +entanglement of her hair. "Think of it, and then come back and talk +to me again," said Miss Demolines.</p> + +<p>"But I am going out of town to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"For how long?"</p> + +<p>"For ten days."</p> + +<p>"Nothing can be done during that time. Clara Van Siever is going away +in a day, and will not be back for three weeks. I happen to know +that; so we have plenty of time for working. It would be very +desirable that she should never even hear of it; but that cannot be +hoped, as Maria has such a tongue! Couldn't you see Mr Dalrymple +to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no; I don't think I could."</p> + +<p>"Mind, at least, that you come to me as soon as ever you return."</p> + +<p>Before he got out of the house, which he did after a most +affectionate farewell, Johnny felt himself compelled to promise that +he would come to Miss Demolines again as soon as he got back to town; +and as the door was closed behind him by the boy in buttons, he made +up his mind that he certainly would call as soon as he returned to +London. "It's as good as a play," he said to himself. Not that he +cared in the least for Miss Demolines, or that he would take any +steps with the intention of preventing the painting of the picture. +Miss Demolines had some battle to fight, and he would leave her to +fight it with her own weapons. If his friend chose to paint a picture +of Jael, and take Miss Van Siever as a model, it was no business of +his. Nevertheless he would certainly go and see Miss Demolines again, +because, as he said, she was as good as a play.</p> + + +<p><a name="c26" id="c26"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVI</h3> +<h3>The Picture<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On that same afternoon Conway Dalrymple rolled up his sketch of Jael +and Sisera, put it into his pocket, dressed himself with some +considerable care, putting on a velvet coat which he was in the habit +of wearing out of doors when he did not intend to wander beyond +Kensington Gardens and the neighbourhood and which was supposed to +become him well, yellow gloves, and a certain Spanish hat of which he +was fond, and slowly sauntered across to the house of his friend Mrs +Dobbs Broughton. When the door was opened to him he did not ask if +the lady were at home, but muttering some word to the servant, made +his way through the hall, upstairs, to a certain small sitting-room +looking to the north, which was much used by the mistress of the +house. It was quite clear that Conway Dalrymple had arranged his +visit beforehand, and that he was expected. He opened the door +without knocking, and, though the servant had followed him, he +entered without being announced. "I'm afraid I'm late," he said, as +he gave his hand to Mrs Broughton; "but for the life I could not get +away sooner."</p> + +<p>"You are quite in time," said the lady, "for any good that you are +likely to do."</p> + +<p>"What does that mean?"</p> + +<p>"It means this, my friend, that you had better give the idea up. I +have been thinking of it all day, and I do not approve of it."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"Of course you will say so, Conway. I have observed of late that +whatever I say to you is called nonsense. I suppose it is the new +fashion that gentlemen should so express themselves, but I am not +quite sure that I like it."</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean. I am very anxious about this picture, and I +shall be much disappointed if it cannot be done now. It was you put +it into my head first."</p> + +<p>"I regret it very much, I can assure you; but it will not be generous +in you to urge that against me."</p> + +<p>"But why shouldn't it succeed?"</p> + +<p>"There are many reasons,—some personal to myself."</p> + +<p>"I do not know what they can be. You hinted at something which I only +took as having been said in joke."</p> + +<p>"If you mean about Miss Van Siever and yourself, I was quite in +earnest, Conway. I do not think you could do better, and I should be +glad to see it of all things. Nothing would please me more than to +bring Miss Van Siever and you together."</p> + +<p>"And nothing would please me less."</p> + +<p>"But why so?"</p> + +<p>"Because,—because—. I can do nothing but tell you the truth, +carina; because my heart is not free to present itself at Miss Van +Siever's feet."</p> + +<p>"It ought to be free, Conway, and you must make it free. It will be +well that you should be married, and well for others besides +yourself. I tell you so as your friend; you have no truer friend. Sit +where you are, if you please. You can say anything you have to say +without stalking about the room."</p> + +<p>"I was not going to stalk,—as you call it."</p> + +<p>"You will be safer and quieter while you are sitting. I heard a knock +at the door, and I do not doubt that it is Clara. She said she would +be here."</p> + +<p>"And you have told her of the picture?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have told her. She said that it would be impossible, and that +her mother would not allow it. Here she is." Then Miss Van Siever was +shown into the room, and Dalrymple perceived that she was a girl the +peculiarity of whose complexion bore daylight better even than +candlelight. There was something in her countenance which seemed to +declare that she could bear any light to which it might be subjected +without flinching from it. And her bonnet, which was very plain, and +her simple brown morning gown, suited her well. She was one who +required none of the circumstances of studied dress to carry off +aught in her own appearance. She could look her best when other women +look their worst, and could dare to be seen at all times. Dalrymple, +with an artist's eye, saw this at once, and immediately confessed to +himself that there was something great about her. He could not deny +her beauty. But there was ever present to him that look of hardness +which had struck him when he first saw her. He could not but fancy +that though at times she might be playful, and allow the fur of her +coat to be stroked with good-humour,—she would be a dangerous +plaything, using her claws unpleasantly when the good-humour should +have passed away. But not the less was she beautiful, and,—beyond +that and better than that, for his purpose,—she was picturesque.</p> + +<p>"Clara," said Mrs Broughton, "here is this mad painter, and he says +that he will have you on his canvas, either with your will or without +it."</p> + +<p>"Even if he could do that, I am sure he would not," said Miss Van +Siever.</p> + +<p>"To prove to you that I can, I think I need only show you the +sketch," said Dalrymple, taking the drawing out of his pocket. "As +regards the face, I know it so well by heart already, that I feel +certain I could produce a likeness without even a sitting. What do +you think of it, Mrs Broughton?"</p> + +<p>"It is clever," said she, looking at it with all that enthusiasm +which women are able to throw into their eyes on such occasions; +"very clever. The subject would just suit her. I have never doubted +that."</p> + +<p>"Eames says that it is confused," said the artist.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that at all," said Mrs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"Of course a sketch must be rough. This one has been rubbed about and +altered,—but I think there is something in it."</p> + +<p>"An immense deal," said Mrs Broughton. "Don't you think so, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"I am not a judge."</p> + +<p>"But you can see the woman's fixed purpose; and her stealthiness as +well;—and the man sleeps like a log. What is that dim outline?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing in particular," said Dalrymple. But the dim outline was +intended to represent Mrs Van Siever.</p> + +<p>"It is very good,—unquestionably good," said Mrs Dobbs Broughton. "I +do not for a moment doubt that you would make a great picture of it. +It is just the subject for you, Conway; so much imagination, and yet +such a scope for portraiture. It would be full of action, and yet +such perfect repose. And the lights and shadows would be exactly in +your line. I can see at a glance how you would manage the light in +the tent, and bring it down just on the nail. And then the pose of +the woman would be so good, so much strength, and yet such grace! You +should have the bowl he drank the milk out of, so as to tell the +whole story. No painter living tells a story so well as you do, +Conway." Conway Dalrymple knew that the woman was talking nonsense to +him, and yet he liked it, and liked her for talking it.</p> + +<p>"But Mr Dalrymple can paint his Sisera without making me a Jael," +said Miss Van Siever.</p> + +<p>"Of course he can," said Mrs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"But I never will," said the artist. "I conceived the subject as +connected with you, and I will never disjoin the two ideas."</p> + +<p>"I think it no compliment, I can assure you," said Miss Van Siever.</p> + +<p>"And none was intended. But you may observe that artists in all ages +have sought for higher types of models in painting women who have +been violent or criminal, than have sufficed for them in their +portraitures of gentleness and virtue. Look at all the Judiths, and +the Lucretias, and the Charlotte Cordays; how much finer the women +are than the Madonnas and the Saint Cecilias."</p> + +<p>"After that, Clara, you need not scruple to be a Jael," said Mrs +Broughton.</p> + +<p>"But I do scruple,—very much; so strongly that I know I never shall +do it. In the first place I don't know why Mr Dalrymple wants it."</p> + +<p>"Want it!" said Conway. "I want to paint a striking picture."</p> + +<p>"But you can do that without putting me into it."</p> + +<p>"No;—not this picture. And why should you object? It is the +commonest thing in the world for ladies to sit to artists in that +manner."</p> + +<p>"People would know it."</p> + +<p>"Nobody would know it, so that you need care about it. What would it +matter if everybody knew it? We are not proposing anything +improper;—are we, Mrs Broughton?"</p> + +<p>"She shall not be pressed if she does not like it," said Mrs +Broughton. "You know I told you before Clara came in, that I was +afraid it could not be done."</p> + +<p>"And I don't like it," said Miss Van Siever, with some little +hesitation in her voice.</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything improper in it, if you mean that," said Mrs +Broughton.</p> + +<p>"But, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; that is the difficulty, no doubt. The only question is, +whether your mother is not so very singular, as to make it impossible +that you should comply with her in everything."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that I do not comply with her in very much," said Miss +Van Siever in her gentlest voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Clara!"</p> + +<p>"You drive me to say so, as otherwise I should be a hypocrite. Of +course I ought not to have said it before Mr Dalrymple."</p> + +<p>"You and Mr Dalrymple will understand all about that, I daresay, +before the picture is finished," said Mrs Broughton.</p> + +<p>It did not take much persuasion on the part of Conway Dalrymple to +get the consent of the younger lady to be painted, or of the elder to +allow the sitting to go on in her room. When the question of easels +and other apparatus came to be considered Mrs Broughton was rather +flustered, and again declared with energy that the whole thing must +fall to the ground; but a few more words from the painter restored +her, and at last the arrangements were made. As Mrs Dobbs Broughton's +dear friend, Madalina Demolines had said, Mrs Dobbs Broughton liked a +fevered existence. "What will Dobbs say?" she exclaimed more than +once. And it was decided at last that Dobbs should know nothing about +it as long as it could be kept from him. "Of course he shall be told +at last," said his wife. "I wouldn't keep anything from the dear +fellow for all the world. But if he knew it at first it would be sure +to get through Musselboro to your mother."</p> + +<p>"I certainly shall beg that Mr Broughton may not be taken into +confidence if Mr Musselboro is to follow," said Clara. "And it must +be understood that I must cease to sit immediately, whatever may be +the inconvenience, should mamma speak to me about it."</p> + +<p>This stipulation was made and conceded, and then Miss Van Siever went +away, leaving the artist with Mrs Dobbs Broughton. "And now, if you +please, Conway, you had better go too," said the lady, as soon as +there had been time for Miss Van Siever to get downstairs and out of +the hall-door.</p> + +<p>"Of course you are in a hurry to get rid of me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am."</p> + +<p>"A little while ago I improperly said that some suggestion of yours +was nonsense and you rebuked me for my blunt incivility. Might not I +rebuke you now with equal justice?"</p> + +<p>"Do so, if you will;—but leave me. I tell you, Conway, that in these +matters you must either be guided by me, or you and I must cease to +see each other. It does not do that you should remain here with me +longer than the time usually allowed for a morning call. Clara has +come and gone, and you also must go. I am sorry to disturb you, for +you seem to be so very comfortable in that chair."</p> + +<p>"I am comfortable,—and I can look at you. Come;—there can be no +harm in saying that, if I say nothing else. Well;—there, now I am +gone." Whereupon he got up from his arm-chair.</p> + +<p>"But you are not gone while you stand there."</p> + +<p>"And you would really wish me to marry that girl?"</p> + +<p>"I do,—if you can love her."</p> + +<p>"And what about her love?"</p> + +<p>"You must win it, of course. She is to be won, like any other woman. +The fruit won't fall into your mouth merely because you open your +lips. You must climb the tree."</p> + +<p>"Still climbing trees in the Hesperides," said Conway. "Love does +that, you know; but it is hard to climb the trees without the love. +It seems to me that I have done my climbing,—have clomb as high as I +knew how, and that the boughs are breaking with me, and that I am +likely to get a fall. Do you understand me?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather not understand you."</p> + +<p>"That is no answer to my question. Do you understand that at this +moment I am getting a fall which will break every bone in my skin and +put any other climbing out of the question as far as I am concerned? +Do you understand that?"</p> + +<p>"No; I do not," said Mrs Broughton, in a tremulous voice.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll go and make love at once to Clara Van Siever. There's +enough of pluck left in me to ask her to marry me, and I suppose I +could manage to go through the ceremony if she accepted me."</p> + +<p>"But I want you to love her," said Mrs Dobbs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"I daresay I should love her well enough after a bit;—that is, if +she didn't break my head or comb my hair. I suppose there will be no +objection to my saying that you sent me when I ask her?"</p> + +<p>"Conway, you will of course not mention my name to her. I have +suggested to you a marriage which I think would tend to make you +happy, and would give you a stability in life which you want. It is +perhaps better that I should be explicit at once. As an unmarried man +I cannot continue to know you. You have said words of late which have +driven me to this conclusion. I have thought about it much,—too much +perhaps, and I know that I am right. Miss Van Siever has beauty and +wealth and intellect, and I think that she would appreciate the love +of such a man as you are. Now go." And Mrs Dobbs Broughton, standing +upright, pointed to the door. Conway Dalrymple slowly took his +Spanish hat from off the marble slab on which he had laid it, and +left the room without saying a word. The interview had been quite +long enough, and there was nothing else which he knew how to say with +effect.</p> + +<p>Croquet is a pretty game out of doors, and chess is delightful in a +drawing-room. Battledore and shuttlecock and hunt-the-slipper have +also their attractions. Proverbs are good, and cross questions with +crooked answers may be very amusing. But none of these games are +equal to the game of love-making,—providing that the players can be +quite sure that there shall be no heart in the matter. Any touch of +heart not only destroys the pleasure of the game, but makes the +player awkward and incapable and robs him of his skill. And thus it +is that there are many people who cannot play the game at all. A +deficiency of some needed internal physical strength prevents the +owners of the heart from keeping a proper control over its valves, +and thus emotion sets in, and the pulses are accelerated, and feeling +supervenes. For such a one to attempt a game of love-making, is as +though your friend with the gout should insist on playing croquet. A +sense of the ridiculous, if nothing else, should in either case deter +the afflicted one from the attempt. There was no such absurdity with +our friend Mrs Dobbs Broughton and Conway Dalrymple. Their valves and +pulses were all right. They could play the game without the slightest +danger of any inconvenient result;—of any inconvenient result, that +is, as regarded their own feelings. Blind people cannot see and +stupid people cannot understand—and it might be that Mr Dobbs +Broughton, being both blind and stupid in such matters, might +perceive something of the playing of the game and not know that it +was only a game of skill.</p> + +<p>When I say that as regarded these two lovers there was nothing of +love between them, and that the game was therefore so far innocent, I +would not be understood as asserting that these people had no hearts +within their bosoms. Mrs Dobbs Broughton probably loved her husband +in a sensible, humdrum way, feeling him to be a bore, knowing him to +be vulgar, aware that he often took a good deal more wine than was +good for him, and that he was almost as uneducated as a hog. Yet she +loved him, and showed her love by taking care that he should have +things for dinner which he liked to eat. But in this alone there were +to be found none of the charms of a fevered existence, and therefore +Mrs Dobbs Broughton, requiring those charms for her comfort, played +her little game with Conway Dalrymple. And as regarded the artist +himself, let no reader presume him to have been heartless because he +flirted with Mrs Dobbs Broughton. Doubtless he will marry some day, +will have a large family for which he will work hard, and will make a +good husband to some stout lady who will be careful in looking after +his linen. But on the present occasion he fell into some slight +trouble in spite of the innocence of his game. As he quitted his +friend's room he heard the hall-door slammed heavily; then there was +a quick step on the stairs, and on the landing-place above the first +flight he met the master of the house, somewhat flurried, as it +seemed, and not looking comfortable, either as regarded his person or +his temper. "By George, he's been drinking!" Conway said to himself, +after the first glance. Now it certainly was the case that Dobbs +Broughton would sometimes drink at improper hours.</p> + +<p>"What the devil are you doing here?" said Dobbs Broughton to his +friend the artist. "You're always here. You're here a doosed sight +more than I like." Husbands when they have been drinking are very apt +to make mistakes as to the purport of the game.</p> + +<p>"Why Dobbs," said the painter, "there's something wrong with you."</p> + +<p>"No, there ain't. There's nothing wrong; and if there was, what's +that to you? I shan't ask you to pay anything for me, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Well;—I hope not."</p> + +<p>"I won't have you here, and let that be an end of it. It's all very +well when I choose to have a few friends to dinner, but my wife can +do very well without your fal-lalling here all day. Will you remember +that, if you please?"</p> + +<p>Conway Dalrymple, knowing that he had better not argue any question +with a drunken man, took himself out of the house, shrugging his +shoulders as he thought of the misery of which his poor dear +playfellow would now be called upon to endure.</p> + + +<p><a name="c27" id="c27"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVII</h3> +<h3>A Hero at Home<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On the morning after his visit to Miss Demolines, John Eames found +himself at the Paddington Station asking for a ticket for Guestwick, +and as he picked up his change another gentleman also demanded a +ticket for the same place. Had Guestwick been as Liverpool or +Manchester, Eames would have thought nothing about it. It is a matter +of course that men should always be going from London to Liverpool +and Manchester; but it seemed odd to him that two men should want +first-class tickets for so small a place as Guestwick at the same +moment. And when, afterwards, he was placed by the guard in the same +carriage with this other traveller, he could not but feel some little +curiosity. The man was four or five years Johnny's senior, a +good-looking fellow, with a pleasant face, and the outward +appurtenances of a gentleman. The intelligent reader will no doubt be +aware that the stranger was Major Grantly; but the intelligent reader +has in this respect had much advantage over John Eames, who up to +this time had never even heard of his cousin Grace Crawley's lover. +"I think you were asking for a ticket to Guestwick," said +Johnny;—whereupon the major owned that such was the case. "I lived +at Guestwick the greater part of my life," said Johnny, "and it's the +dullest, dearest little town in all England." "I never was there +before," said the major, "and indeed I can hardly say I am going +there now. I shall only pass through it." Then he got out his +newspaper, and Johnny also got out his, and for a time there was no +conversation between them. John remembered how holy was the errand +upon which he was intent, and gathered his thoughts together, +resolving that having so great a matter on his mind he would think +about nothing else and speak about nothing at all. He was going down +to Allington to ask Lily Dale for the last time whether she would be +his wife; to ascertain whether he was to be successful or +unsuccessful in the one great wish of his life; and, as such was the +case with him,—as he had in hand a thing so vital, it could be +nothing to him whether the chance companion of his voyage was an +agreeable or a disagreeable person. He himself, in any of the +ordinary circumstances of life, was prone enough to talk with any one +he might meet. He could have travelled for twelve hours together with +an old lady, and could listen to her or make her listen to him +without half an hour's interruption. But this journey was made on no +ordinary occasion, and it behoved him to think of Lily. Therefore, +after the first little almost necessary effort at civility, he fell +back into gloomy silence. He was going to do his best to win Lily +Dale, and this doing of his best would require all his thoughts and +all his energy.</p> + +<p>And probably Major Grantly's mind was bent in the same direction. He, +too, had this work before him, and could not look upon his work as a +thing that was altogether pleasant. He might probably get that which +he was intent upon obtaining. He knew,—he almost knew,—that he had +won the heart of the girl whom he was seeking. There had been that +between him and her which justified him in supposing that he was dear +to her, although no expression of affection had ever passed from her +lips to his ears. Men may know all that they require to know on that +subject without any plainly spoken words. Grace Crawley had spoken no +word, and yet he had known,—at any rate had not doubted, that he +could have the place in her heart of which he desired to be the +master. She would never surrender herself altogether till she had +taught herself to be sure of him to whom she gave herself. But she +had listened to him with silence that had not rebuked him, and he had +told himself that he might venture, without fear of that rebuke as to +which the minds of some men are sensitive to a degree which other men +cannot even understand. But for all this Major Grantly could not be +altogether happy as to his mission; he would ask Grace Crawley to be +his wife; but he would be ruined by his own success. And the +remembrance that he would be severed from all his own family by the +thing that he was doing, was very bitter to him. In generosity he +might be silent about this to Grace, but who can endure to be silent +on such a subject to the woman who is to be his wife? And then it +would not be possible for him to abstain from explanation. He was now +following her down to Allington, a step which he certainly would not +have taken but for the misfortune which had befallen her father, and he +must explain to her in some sort why he did so. He must say to +her,—if not in so many words, still almost as plainly as words could +speak,—I am here now to ask you to be my wife, because you specially +require the protection and countenance of the man who loves you, in +the present circumstances of your father's affairs. He knew that he +was doing right;—perhaps had some idea that he was doing nobly; but +this very appreciation of his own good qualities made the task before +him the more difficult.</p> + +<p>Major Grantly had <i>The Times</i>, and John Eames had <i>The Daily News</i>, +and they exchanged papers. One had the last <i>Saturday</i>, and the other +the last <i>Spectator</i>, and they exchanged those also. Both had The +<i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>, of which enterprising periodical they gradually +came to discuss the merits and demerits, thus falling into +conversation at last, in spite of the weight of the mission on which +each of them was intent. Then, at last, when they were within +half-an-hour of the end of their journey, Major Grantly asked his +companion what was the best inn at Guestwick. He had at first been +minded to go on to Allington at once,—to go on to Allington and get +his work done, and then return home or remain there, or find the +nearest inn with a decent bed, as circumstances might direct him. But +on reconsideration, as he drew nearer to the scene of his future +operations, he thought that it might be well for him to remain that +night at Guestwick. He did not quite know how far Allington was from +Guestwick, but he did know that it was still mid-winter, and that the +days were short. "The Magpie" was the best inn, Johnny said. Having +lived at Guestwick all his life, and having a mother living there +now, he had never himself put up at "The Magpie," but he believed it +to be a good country inn. They kept post-horses there, he knew. He +did not tell the stranger that his late old friend, Lord De Guest, +and his present old friend, Lady Julia, always hired post-horses from +"The Magpie," but he grounded his ready assertion on the remembrance +of that fact. "I think I shall stay there to-night," said the major. +"You'll find it pretty comfortable, I don't doubt," said Johnny. +"Though, indeed, it always seems to me that a man alone at an inn has +a very bad time of it. Reading is all very well, but one gets tired +of it at last. And then I hate horse-hair chairs." "It isn't very +delightful," said the major, "but beggars mustn't be choosers." Then +there was a pause, after which the major spoke again. "You don't +happen to know which way Allington lies?"</p> + +<p>"Allington!" said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Allington. Is there not a village called Allington?"</p> + +<p>"There is a village called Allington, certainly. It lies over there." +And Johnny pointed with his finger through the window. "As you do not +know the country you can see nothing, but I can see the Allington +trees at this moment."</p> + +<p>"I suppose there is no inn at Allington?"</p> + +<p>"There's a public-house, with a very nice clean bedroom. It is called +the 'Red Lion.' Mrs Forrard keeps it. I would quite as soon stay +there as at 'The Magpie.' Only if they don't expect you, they +wouldn't have much for dinner."</p> + +<p>"Then you know the village of Allington?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know the village of Allington very well. I have friends +living there. Indeed, I may say I know everybody in Allington."</p> + +<p>"Do you know Mrs Dale?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs Dale?" said Johnny. "Yes, I know Mrs Dale. I have known Mrs Dale +pretty nearly all my life." Who could this man be who was gong down +to see Mrs Dale,—Mrs Dale, and consequently, Lily Dale? He thought +that he knew Mrs Dale so well, that she could have no visitor of whom +he would not be entitled to have some knowledge. But Major Grantly +had nothing more to say at the moment about Mrs Dale. He had never +seen Mrs Dale in his life, and was now going to her house, not to see +her, but a friend of hers. He found that he could not very well +explain this to a stranger, and therefore at the moment he said +nothing further. But Johnny would not allow the subject to be +dropped. "Have you known Mrs Dale long?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I have not the pleasure of knowing her at all," said the major.</p> + +<p>"I thought, perhaps, by your asking after her<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I intend to call upon her, that is all. I suppose they will have an +omnibus here from 'The Magpie'?" Eames said that there no doubt would +be an omnibus from "The Magpie," and then they were at their +journey's end.</p> + +<p>For the present we will follow John Eames, who went at once to his +mother's house. It was his intention to remain there for two or three +days, and then go over to the house, or rather to the cottage, of his +great ally Lady Julia, which lay just beyond Guestwick Manor, and +somewhat nearer to Allington than to the town of Guestwick. He had +made up his mind that he would not himself go over to Allington till +he could do so from Guestwick Cottage, as it was called, feeling +that, under certain untoward circumstances,—should untoward +circumstances arise,—Lady Julia's sympathy might be more endurable +than that of his mother. But he would take care that it should be +known at Allington that he was in the neighbourhood. He understood +the necessary strategy of his campaign too well to suppose that he +could startle Lily into acquiescence.</p> + +<p>With his own mother and sister, John Eames was in these days quite a +hero. He was a hero with them now, because in his early boyish days +there had been so little about him that was heroic. Then there had +been a doubt whether he would ever earn his daily bread, and he had +been a very heavy burden on the slight family resources in the matter +of jackets and trousers. The pride taken in our Johnny had not been +great, though the love felt for him had been warm. But gradually +things had changed, and John Eames had become heroic in his mother's +eyes. A chance circumstance had endeared him to Earl De Guest, and +from that moment things had gone well with him. The earl had given +him a watch and had left him a fortune, and Sir Raffle Buffle had +made him a private secretary. In the old days, when Johnny's love for +Lily Dale was first discussed by his mother and sister, they had +thought it impossible that Lily should ever bring herself to regard +with affection so humble a suitor;—for the Dales have ever held +their heads up in the world. But now there is no misgiving on that +score with Mrs Eames and her daughter. Their wonder is that Lily Dale +should be such a fool as to decline the love of such a man. So Johnny +was received with respect due to a hero, as well as with the +affection belonging to a son;—by which I mean it to be inferred that +Mrs Eames had got a little bit of fish for dinner as well as a leg of +mutton.</p> + +<p>"A man came down in the train with me who says he is going over to +Allington," said Johnny. "I wonder who he can be. He is staying at +'The Magpie'."</p> + +<p>"A friend of Captain Dale's, probably," said Mary. Captain Dale was +the squire's nephew and his heir.</p> + +<p>"But this man was not going to the squire's. He was going to the +Small House."</p> + +<p>"Is he going to stay there?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose not, as he asked about the inn." Then, Johnny reflected +that the man might possibly be a friend of Crosbie's, and became +melancholy in consequence. Crosbie might have thought it expedient to +send an ambassador down to prepare the ground for him before he +should venture again upon the scene himself. If it were so, would it +not be well that he, John Eames, should get over to Lily as soon as +possible, and not wait till he should be staying with Lady Julia?</p> + +<p>It was at any rate incumbent upon him to call upon Lady Julia the +next morning, because of his commission. The Berlin wool might remain +in his portmanteau till his portmanteau should go with him to the +cottage; but he would take the spectacles at once, and he must +explain to Lady Julia what the lawyers had told him about the income. +So he hired a saddle-horse from "The Magpie" and started after +breakfast on the morning after his arrival. In his unheroic days he +would have walked,—as he had done, scores of times, over the whole +distance from Guestwick to Allington. But now, in these grander days, +he thought about his boots and the mud, and the formal appearance of +the thing. "Ah dear," he said to himself, as the nag walked slowly +out of the town, "it used to be better with me in the old days. I +hardly hoped that she would ever accept me, but at least she had +never refused me. And then that brute had not as yet made his way +down to Allington!"</p> + +<p>He did not go very fast. After leaving the town he trotted on for a +mile or so. But when he got to the palings of Guestwick Manor he let +the animal walk again, and his mind ran back over the incidents of +his life which were connected with the place. He remembered a certain +long ramble which he had taken in those woods after Lily had refused +him. That had been subsequent to the Crosbie episode in his life, and +Johnny had been led to hope by certain of his friends,—especially by +Lord De Guest and his sister,—that he might then be successful. But +he had been unsuccessful, and had passed the bitterest hour of his +life wandering about in those woods. Since that he had been +unsuccessful again and again; but the bitterness of failure had not +been so strong with him as on that first occasion. He would try again +now, and if he failed, he would fail for the last time. As he was +thinking of all this, a gig overtook him on the road, and on looking +round he saw that the occupant of the gig was the man who had +travelled with him on the previous day in the train. Major Grantly +was alone in the gig, and as he recognised John Eames he stopped his +horse. "Are you also going to Allington?" he asked. John Eames, with +something of scorn in his voice, replied that he had no intention of +going to Allington on that day. He still thought that this man might +be an emissary from Crosbie, and therefore resolved that but scant +courtesy was due to him. "I am on my way there now," said Grantly, +"and am going to the house of your friend. May I tell her that I +travelled with you yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Johnny. "You may tell her that you came down with +John Eames."</p> + +<p>"And are you John Eames?" asked the major.</p> + +<p>"If you have no objection," said Johnny. "But I can hardly suppose +you have ever heard my name before?"</p> + +<p>"It is familiar to me, because I have the pleasure of knowing a +cousin of yours, Miss Grace Crawley."</p> + +<p>"My cousin is at present staying at Allington with Mrs Dale," said +Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Just so," said the major, who now began to reflect that he had been +indiscreet in mentioning Grace Crawley's name. No doubt every one +connected with the family, all the Crawleys, all the Dales, and all +the Eameses, would soon know the business which had brought him down +to Allington; but he need not have taken the trouble of beginning the +story against himself. John Eames, in truth, had never even heard +Major Grantly's name, and was quite unaware of the fortune which +awaited his cousin. Even after what he had now been told, he still +suspected the stranger of being an emissary from his enemy; but the +major, not giving him credit for his ignorance, was annoyed with +himself for having told so much of his own history. "I will tell the +ladies that I had the pleasure of meeting you," he said; "that is, if +I am lucky enough to see them." And then he drove on.</p> + +<p>"I know I should hate that fellow if I were to meet him anywhere +again," said Johnny to himself as he rode on. "When I take an +aversion to a fellow at first sight, I always stick to it. It's +instinct, I suppose." And he was still giving himself credit for the +strength of his instincts when he reached Lady Julia's cottage. He +rode at once into the stable-yard, with the privilege of an +accustomed friend of the house, and having given up his horse, +entered the cottage by the back door. "Is my lady at home, Jemima?" +he said to the maid.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr John; she is in the drawing-room, and friends of yours are +with her." Then he was announced, and found himself in the presence +of Lady Julia, Lily Dale, and Grace Crawley.</p> + +<p>He was very warmly received. Lady Julia really loved him dearly, and +would have done anything in her power to bring about a match between +him and Lily. Grace was his cousin, and though she had not seen him +often, she was prepared to love him dearly as Lily's lover. And +Lily,—Lily loved him dearly too,—if only she could have brought +herself to love him as he wished to be loved! To all of them Johnny +Eames was something of a hero. At any rate in the eyes of all of them +he possessed those virtues which seemed to them to justify them in +petting him and making much of him.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad you've come,—that is, if you've brought my +spectacles," said Lady Julia.</p> + +<p>"My pockets are crammed with spectacles," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"And when are you coming to me?"</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of Tuesday."</p> + +<p>"No; don't come till Wednesday. But I mean Monday. No; Monday won't +do. Come on Tuesday,—early, and drive me out. And now tell us the +news."</p> + +<p>Johnny swore that there was no news. He made a brave attempt to be +gay and easy before Lily; but he failed, and he knew that he +failed,—and he knew that she knew that he failed. "Mamma will be so +glad to see you," said Lily. "I suppose you haven't seen Bell yet?"</p> + +<p>"I only got to Guestwick yesterday afternoon," said he.</p> + +<p>"And it will be so nice our having Grace at the Small House;—won't +it? Uncle Christopher has quite taken a passion for Grace,—so that I +am hardly anybody now in the Allington world."</p> + +<p>"By-the-by," said Johnny, "I came down here with a friend of yours, +Grace."</p> + +<p>"A friend of mine?" said Grace.</p> + +<p>"So he says, and he is at Allington at this moment. He passed me in a +gig going there."</p> + +<p>"And what was his name?" Lily asked.</p> + +<p>"I have not the remotest idea," said Johnny. "He is a man about my +own age, very good-looking, and apparently very well able to take +care of himself. He is short-sighted, and holds a glass in one eye +when he looks out of a carriage window. That's all I know about him."</p> + +<p>Grace Crawley's face had become suffused with blushes at the first +mention of the friend and the gig; but then Grace blushed very +easily. Lily knew all about it at once;—at once divined who must be +the friend in the gig, and was almost beside herself with joy. Lady +Julia, who had heard no more of the major than had Johnny, was still +clever enough to perceive that the friend must be a particular +friend,—for she had noticed Miss Crawley's blushes. And Grace +herself had no doubt as to the man. The picture of her lover, with +the glass in his eye as he looked out of the window, had been too +perfect to admit of a doubt. In her distress she put out her hand and +took hold of Lily's dress.</p> + +<p>"And you say he is at Allington now?" said Lily.</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt he is at the Small House at this moment," said +Johnny.</p> + + +<p><a name="c28" id="c28"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII</h3> +<h3>Showing How Major Grantly Took a Walk<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Major Grantly drove his gig into the yard of the "Red Lion" at +Allington, and from thence walked away at once to Mrs Dale's house. +When he reached the village he had hardly made up his mind as to the +way in which he would begin his attack; but now, as he went down the +street, he resolved that he would first ask for Mrs Dale. Most +probably he would find himself in the presence of Mrs Dale and her +daughter, and of Grace also, at his first entrance; and if so, his +position would be awkward enough. He almost regretted now that he had +not written to Mrs Dale, and asked for an interview. His task would +be very difficult if he should find all the ladies together. But he +was strong in the feeling that when his purpose was told it would +meet the approval at any rate of Mrs Dale; and he walked boldly on, +and bravely knocked at the door of the Small House, as he had already +learned that Mrs Dale's residence was called by all the +neighbourhood. Nobody was at home, the servant said; and then, when +the visitor began to make further inquiry, the girl explained that +the two young ladies had walked as far as Guestwick Cottage, and that +Mrs Dale was at this moment at the Great House with the squire. She +had gone across soon after the young ladies had started. The maid, +however, was interrupted before she had finished telling all this to +the major, by finding her mistress behind her in the passage. Mrs +Dale had returned, and had entered the house from the lawn.</p> + +<p>"I am here now, Jane," said Mrs Dale, "if the gentleman wishes to see +me."</p> + +<p>Then the major announced himself. "My name is Major Grantly," said +he; and he was blundering on with some words about his own intrusion, +when Mrs Dale begged him to follow her into the drawing-room. He had +muttered something to the effect that Mrs Dale would not know who he +was; but Mrs Dale knew all about him, and had heard the whole of +Grace's story from Lily. She and Lily had often discussed the +question whether, under existing circumstances, Major Grantly should +feel himself bound to offer his hand to Grace, and the mother and +daughter had differed somewhat on the matter. Mrs Dale had held that +he was not so bound, urging that the unfortunate position in which Mr +Crawley was placed was so calamitous to all connected with him, as to +justify any man, not absolutely engaged, in abandoning the thoughts +of such a marriage. Mrs Dale had spoken of Major Grantly's father and +mother and brother and sister, and had declared her opinion that they +were entitled to consideration. But Lily had opposed this idea very +stoutly, asserting that in an affair of love a man should think +neither of father or brother or mother or sister. "If he is worth +anything," Lily had said, "he will come to her now,—in her trouble; +and will tell her that she at least has got a friend who will be true +to her. If he does that, then I shall think that there is something +of the poetry and nobleness of love left." In answer to this Mrs Dale +had replied that women had no right to expect from men such +self-denying nobility as that. "I don't expect it, mamma," said Lily. +"And I am sure that Grace does not. Indeed I am quite sure that Grace +does not expect even to see him ever again. She never says so, but I +know that she has made up her mind about it. Still I think he ought +to come." "It can hardly be that a man is bound to do a thing, the +doing of which, as you confess, would be almost more than noble," +said Mrs Dale. And so the matter had been discussed between them. But +now, as it seemed to Mrs Dale, the man had come to do the noble +thing. At any rate he was there in her drawing-room, and before +either of them had sat down he had contrived to mention Grace. "You +may not probably have heard my name," he said, "but I am acquainted +with your friend, Miss Crawley."</p> + +<p>"I know your name very well, Major Grantly. My brother-in-law who +lives over yonder, Mr Dale, knows your father very well,—or he did +some years ago. And I have heard him say that he remembers you."</p> + +<p>"I recollect. He used to be staying at Ullathorne. But that is a long +time ago. Is he at home now?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Dale is almost always at home. He very rarely goes away, and I am +sure would be glad to see you."</p> + +<p>Then there was a little pause in the conversation. They had managed +to seat themselves, and Mrs Dale had said enough to put her visitor +fairly at his ease. If he had anything special to say to her, he must +say it,—any request or proposition to make as to Grace Crawley, he +must make it. And he did make it at once. "My object in coming to +Allington," he said, "was to see Miss Crawley."</p> + +<p>"She and my daughter have taken a long walk to call on a friend, and +I am afraid they will stay for lunch; but they will certainly be home +between three and four, if that is not too long for you to remain at +Allington."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no," said he. "It will not hurt me to wait."</p> + +<p>"It certainly will not hurt me, Major Grantly. Perhaps you will lunch +with me?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what, Mrs Dale; if you'll permit me, I'll explain to +you why I have come here. Indeed, I have intended to do so all +through, and I can only ask you to keep my secret, if after all it +should require to be kept."</p> + +<p>"I will certainly keep any secret that you may ask me to keep," said +Mrs Dale, taking off her bonnet.</p> + +<p>"I hope there may be no need of one," said Major Grantly. "The truth +is, Mrs Dale, that I have known Miss Crawley for some time,—nearly +for two years now, and—I may as well speak it out at once,—I have +made up my mind to ask her to be my wife. That is why I am here." +Considering the nature of the statement, which must have been +embarrassing, I think that it was made with fluency and simplicity.</p> + +<p>"Of course, Major Grantly, you know that I have no authority with our +young friend," said Mrs Dale. "I mean that she is not connected with +us by family ties. She has a father and mother, living, as I believe, +in the same county with yourself."</p> + +<p>"I know that, Mrs Dale."</p> + +<p>"And you may, perhaps, understand that, as Miss Crawley is now +staying with me, I owe it in a measure to her friends to ask you +whether they are aware of your intention."</p> + +<p>"They are not aware of it."</p> + +<p>"I know that at the present moment they are in great trouble."</p> + +<p>Mrs Dale was going on, but she was interrupted by Major Grantly. +"That is just it," he said. "There are circumstances at present which +make it almost impossible that I should go to Mr Crawley and ask his +permission to address his daughter. I do not know whether you have +heard the whole story?"</p> + +<p>"As much, I believe, as Grace could tell me."</p> + +<p>"He is, I believe, in such a state of mental distress as to be hardly +capable of giving me a considerate answer. And I should not know how +to speak to him, or how not to speak to him, about this unfortunate +affair. But, Mrs Dale, you will, I think, perceive that the same +circumstances make it imperative upon me to be explicit to Miss +Crawley. I think I am the last man to boast of a woman's regard, but +I had learned to think that I was not indifferent to Grace. If that +be so, what must she think of me if I stay away from her now?"</p> + +<p>"She understands too well the weight of the misfortune which has +fallen upon her father, to suppose that any one not connected with +her can be bound to share it."</p> + +<p>"That is just it. She will think that I am silent for that reason. I +have determined that that shall not keep me silent, and, therefore, I +have come here. I may, perhaps, be able to bring comfort to her in +her trouble. As regards my worldly position,—though, indeed, it will +not be very good,—as hers is not good either, you will not think +yourself bound to forbid me to see her on that head."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I need hardly say that I fully understand that, as +regards money, you are offering everything where you can get +nothing."</p> + +<p>"And you understand my feeling?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do,—and appreciate the great nobility of your love for +Grace. You shall see her here, if you wish it,—and to-day, if you +choose to wait." Major Grantly said that he would wait and would see +Grace on that afternoon. Mrs Dale again suggested that he should +lunch with her, but this he declined. She then proposed that he +should go across and call upon the squire, and thus consume his time. +But to this he also objected. He was not exactly in the humour, he +said, to renew so old and so slight an acquaintance at that time. Mr +Dale would probably have forgotten him, and would be sure to ask what +had brought him to Allington. He would go and take a walk, he said, +and come again at exactly half-past three. Mrs Dale again expressed +her certainty that the young ladies would be back by that time, and +Major Grantly left the house.</p> + +<p>Mrs Dale when she was left alone could not but compare the good +fortune which was awaiting Grace, with the evil fortune which had +fallen on her own child. Here was a man who was at all points a +gentleman. Such, at least, was the character which Mrs Dale at once +conceded to him. And Grace had chanced to come across this man, and +to please his eye, and satisfy his taste, and be loved by him. And +the result of that chance would be that Grace would have everything +given to her that the world has to give worth acceptance. She would +have a companion for her life whom she could trust, admire, love, and +of whom she could be infinitely proud. Mrs Dale was not at all aware +whether Major Grantly might have five hundred a year to spend, or +five thousand,—or what sum intermediate between the two,—nor did +she give much of her thoughts at the moment to that side of the +subject. She knew without thinking of it,—or fancied that she knew, +that there were means sufficient for comfortable living. It was +solely the nature and character of the man that was in her mind, and +the sufficiency that was to be found in them for a wife's happiness. +But her daughter, her Lily, had come across a man who was a +scoundrel, and, as the consequence of that meeting, all her life was +marred! Could any credit be given to Grace for her success, or any +blame attached to Lily for her failure? Surely not the latter! How +was her girl to have guarded herself from a love so unfortunate, or +have avoided the rock on which her vessel had been shipwrecked? Then +many bitter thoughts passed through Mrs Dale's mind, and she almost +envied Grace Crawley her lover. Lily was contented to remain as she +was, but Lily's mother could not bring herself to be satisfied that +her child should fill a lower place in the world than other girls. It +had ever been her idea,—an ideal probably never absolutely uttered +even to herself, but not the less practically conceived,—that it is +the business of a woman to be married. That her Lily should have been +won and not worn, had been, and would be, a trouble to her for ever.</p> + +<p>Major Grantly went back to the inn and saw his horse fed, and smoked +a cigar, and then, finding that it was still only just one o'clock, +he started for a walk. He was careful not to go out of Allington by +the road he had entered it, as he had no wish to encounter Grace and +her friend on their return into the village; so he crossed a little +brook which runs at the bottom of the hill on which the chief street +of Allington is built, and turned into a field-path to the left as +soon as he had got beyond the houses. Not knowing the geography of +the place he did not understand that by taking that path he was +making his way back to the squire's house; but it was so; and after +sauntering on for about a mile and crossing back again over the +stream, of which he took no notice, he found himself leaning across a +gate, and looking into a paddock on the other side of which was the +high wall of a gentleman's garden. To avoid this he went on a little +further and found himself on a farm road, and before he could retrace +his steps so as not to be seen, he met a gentleman whom he presumed +to be the owner of the house. It was the squire surveying his home +farm, as was his daily custom; but Major Grantly had not perceived +that the house must of necessity be Allington House, having been +aware that he had passed the entrance to the place, as he entered the +village on the other side. "I'm afraid I'm intruding," he said, +lifting his hat. "I came up the path yonder, not knowing that it +would lead me so close to a gentleman's house."</p> + +<p>"There is a right of way through the fields on to the Guestwick +road," said the squire, "and therefore you are not trespassing in any +sense; but we are not particular about such things down here, and you +would be very welcome if there were no right of way. If you are a +stranger, perhaps you would like to see the outside of the old house. +People think it picturesque."</p> + +<p>Then Major Grantly became aware that this must be the squire, and he +was annoyed with himself for his own awkwardness in having thus come +upon the house. He would have wished to keep himself altogether +unseen if it had been possible,—and especially unseen by this old +gentleman, to whom, now that he had met him, he was almost bound to +introduce himself. But he was not absolutely bound to do so, and he +determined that he would still keep his peace. Even if the squire +should afterwards hear of his having been there, what would it +matter? But to proclaim himself at the present moment would be +disagreeable to him. He permitted the squire, however, to lead him to +the front of the house, and in a few moments was standing on the +terrace hearing an account of the architecture of the mansion.</p> + +<p>"You can see the date still in the brickwork of one of the +chimneys,—that is, if your eyes are very good you can see it,—1617. +It was completed in that year, and very little has been done to it +since. We think the chimneys are pretty."</p> + +<p>"They are very pretty," said the major. "Indeed, the house altogether +is as graceful as it can be."</p> + +<p>"Those trees are old, too," said the squire, pointing to two cedars +which stood at the side of the house. "They say they are older than +the house but I don't feel sure of it. There was a mansion here +before, very nearly, though not quite, on the same spot."</p> + +<p>"Your own ancestors were living here before that, I suppose?" said +Grantly, meaning to be civil.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; two or three hundred years before it, I suppose. If you +don't mind coming down to the churchyard, you'll get an excellent +view of the house;—by far the best that there is. By-the-by, would +you like to step in and take a glass of wine?"</p> + +<p>"I'm very much obliged," said the major, "but indeed I'd rather not." +Then he followed the squire down to the churchyard, and was shown the +church as well as the view of the house, and the vicarage, and a view +over to Allington woods from the vicarage gate, of which the squire +was very fond, and in this way he was taken back on to the Guestwick +side of the village, and even down on the road by which he had +entered it, without in the least knowing where he was. He looked at +his watch, and saw that it was past two. "I'm very much obliged to +you, sir," he said again taking off his hat to the squire, "and if I +shall not be intruding I'll make my way back to the village."</p> + +<p>"What village?"</p> + +<p>"To Allington," said Grantly.</p> + +<p>"This is Allington," said the squire; and as he spoke, Lily Dale and +Grace Crawley turned a corner from the Guestwick road and came close +upon them. "Well, girls, I did not expect to see you," said the +squire; "your mamma told me you wouldn't be back till it was nearly +dark, Lily."</p> + +<p>"We have come back earlier than we intended," said Lily. She of +course had seen the stranger with her uncle, and knowing the ways of +the squire in such matters had expected to be introduced to him. But +the reader will be aware that no introduction was possible. It never +occurred to Lily that this man could be the Major Grantly of whom she +and Grace had been talking during the whole length of the walk home. +But Grace and her lover had of course known each other at once, and +Grantly, though he was abashed and almost dismayed by the meeting, of +course came forward and gave his hand to his friend. Grace in taking +it did not utter a word.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I ought to have introduced myself to you as Major Grantly?" +said he, turning to the squire.</p> + +<p>"Major Grantly! Dear me! I had no idea that you were expected in +these parts."</p> + +<p>"I have come without being expected."</p> + +<p>"You are very welcome, I'm sure. I hope your father is well? I used +to know him some years ago, and I daresay he has not forgotten me." +Then, while the girls stood by in silence, and while Grantly was +endeavouring to escape, the squire invited him very warmly to send +his portmanteau up to the house. "We'll have the ladies up from the +house below, and make it as little dull for you as possible." But +this would not have suited Grantly,—at any rate would not suit him +till he should know what answer he was to have. He excused himself +therefore, pleading a positive necessity to be at Guestwick that +evening, and then, explaining that he had already seen Mrs Dale, he +expressed his intention of going back to the Small House in company +with the ladies, if they would allow him. The squire, who did not as +yet quite understand it all, bade him a formal adieu, and Lily led +the way home down behind the churchyard wall and through the bottom +of the gardens belonging to the Great House. She of course knew now +who the stranger was, and did all in her power to relieve Grace of +her embarrassment. Grace had hitherto not spoken a single word since +she had seen her lover, nor did she say a word to him in their walk +to the house. And, in truth, he was not much more communicative than +Grace. Lily did all the talking, and with wonderful female skill +contrived to have some words ready for use till they all found +themselves together in Mrs Dale's drawing-room. "I have caught a +major, mamma, and landed him," said Lily laughing, "but I'm afraid, +from what I hear, that you had caught him first."</p> + + +<p><a name="c29" id="c29"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIX</h3> +<h3>Miss Lily Dale's Logic<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lady Julia De Guest always lunched at one exactly, and it was not +much past twelve when John Eames made his appearance at the cottage. +He was of course told to stay, and of course said that he would stay. +It had been his purpose to lunch with Lady Julia; but then he had not +expected to find Lily Dale at the cottage. Lily herself would have +been quite at her ease, protected by Lady Julia, and somewhat +protected also by her own powers of fence, had it not been that Grace +was there also. But Grace Crawley, from the moment that she had heard +the description of the gentleman who looked out of the window with +his glass in his eye, had by no means been at her ease. Lily saw at +once that she could not be brought to join in any conversation, and +both John and Lady Julia, in their ignorance of the matter in hand, +made matters worse.</p> + +<p>"So that was Major Grantly?" said John. "I have heard of him before, +I think. He is a son of the old archdeacon, is he not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know about old archdeacon," said Lady Julia. "The archdeacon +is the son of the old bishop, whom I remember very well. And it is +not so very long since the bishop died, either."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what he's doing at Allington," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"I think he knows my uncle," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"But he's going to call on your mother, he said." Then Johnny +remembered that the major had said something as to knowing Miss +Crawley, and for the moment he was silent.</p> + +<p>"I remember when they talked of making the son a bishop also," said +Lady Julia.</p> + +<p>"What;—this same man who is now a major?" said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"No, you goose. He is not the son; he is the grandson. They were +going to make the archdeacon a bishop, and I remember hearing that he +was terribly disappointed. He is getting to be an old man now, I +suppose; and yet, dear me, how well I remember his father."</p> + +<p>"He didn't look like a bishop's son," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"How does a bishop's son look," Lily asked.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he ought to have some sort of clerical tinge about him; +but this fellow had nothing of that kind."</p> + +<p>"But then this fellow, as you call him," said Lily, "is only the son +of an archdeacon."</p> + +<p>"That accounts for it, I suppose," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>But during all this time Grace did not say a word, and Lily perceived +it. Then she bethought herself as to what she had better do. Grace, +she knew, could not be comfortable where she was. Nor, indeed, was it +probable that Grace would be very comfortable in returning home. +There could not be much ease for Grace till the coming meeting +between her and Major Grantly should be over. But it would be better +that Grace should go back to Allington at once; and better also, +perhaps, for Major Grantly that it should be so. "Lady Julia," she +said, "I don't think we'll mind stopping for lunch to-day."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, my dear; you promised."</p> + +<p>"I think we must break our promise; I do indeed. You mustn't be angry +with us." And Lily looked at Lady Julia, as though there were +something which Lady Julia ought to understand, which she, Lily, +could not quite explain. I fear that Lily was false, and intended her +old friend to believe that she was running away because John Eames +had come there.</p> + +<p>"But you will be famished," said Lady Julia.</p> + +<p>"We shall live through it," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"It is out of the question that I should let you walk all the way +here from Allington and all the way back without taking something."</p> + +<p>"We shall just be home in time for lunch if we go now," said Lily. +"Will not that be best, Grace?"</p> + +<p>Grace hardly knew what would be best. She only knew that Major +Grantly was at Allington, and that he had come thither to see her. +The idea of hurrying back after him was unpleasant to her, and yet +she was so flurried that she felt thankful to Lily for taking her +away from the cottage. The matter was compromised at last. They +remained for half an hour, and ate some biscuits and pretended to +drink a glass of wine, and then they started. John Eames, who in +truth believed that Lily Dale was running away from him, was by no +means well pleased, and when the girls were gone, did not make +himself so agreeable to his old friend as he should have done. "What +a fool I am to come here at all," he said, throwing himself into an +arm-chair as soon as the front door was closed.</p> + +<p>"That's very civil to me, John!"</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean, Lady Julia. I am a fool to come near her, +until I can do so without thinking more of her than I do of any other +girl in the county."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you have anything to complain of as yet," said Lady +Julia, who had in some sort perceived that Lily's retreat had been on +Grace's account, and not on her own. "It seems to me that Lily was +very glad to see you, and when I told her that you were coming to +stay here, and would be near them for some days, she seemed to be +quite pleased;—she did indeed."</p> + +<p>"Then why did she run away the moment I came in?" said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"I think it was something you said about that man who has gone to +Allington."</p> + +<p>"What difference can the man make to her? The truth is, I despise +myself;—I do indeed, Lady Julia. Only think of my meeting Crosbie at +dinner the other day, and his having the impertinence to come up and +shake hands with me."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he didn't say anything about what happened at the +Paddington Station?"</p> + +<p>"No; he didn't speak about that. I wish I knew whether she cares for +him still. If I thought she did, I would never speak another word to +her,—I mean about myself. Of course I am not going to quarrel with +them. I am not such a fool as that." Then Lady Julia tried to comfort +him, and succeeded so far that he was induced to eat the mince veal +that had been intended for the comfort and support of the two young +ladies who had run away.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it is he?" were the first words which Grace said when +they were fairly on their way back together.</p> + +<p>"I should think it must be. What other man can there be, of that +sort, who would be likely to come to Allington to see you?"</p> + +<p>"His coming is not likely. I cannot understand that he should come. +He let me leave Silverbridge without seeing me,—and I thought that +he was quite right."</p> + +<p>"And I think he is quite right to come here. I am very glad he has +come. It shows that he has really something like a heart inside him. +Had he not come, or sent, or written, or taken some step before the +trial comes on, to make you know that he was thinking of you, I +should have said that he was as hard,—as hard as any other man that +I ever heard of. Men are so hard! But I don't think he is, now. I am +beginning to regard him as the one chevalier sans peur et sans +reproche, and to fancy that you ought to go down on your knees before +him, and kiss his highness's shoebuckle. In judging of men one's mind +vacillates so quickly between the scorn which is due to a false man +and the worship which is due to a true man." Then she was silent for +a moment, but Grace said nothing, and Lily continued, "I tell you +fairly, Grace, that I shall expect very much from you now."</p> + +<p>"Much in what way, Lily?"</p> + +<p>"In the way of worship. I shall not be content that you should merely +love him. If he has come here, as he must have done, to say that the +moment of the world's reproach is the moment he has chosen to ask you +to be his wife, I think that you will owe him more than love."</p> + +<p>"I shall owe him more than love, and I will pay him more than love," +said Grace. There was something in the tone of her voice as she spoke +which made Lily stop her and look up into her face. There was a smile +there which Lily had never seen before, and which gave a beauty to +her which was wonderful to Lily's eyes. Surely this lover of Grace's +must have seen her smile like that, and therefore had loved her and +was giving such wonderful proof of his love. "Yes," continued Grace, +standing and looking at her friend, "you may stare at me, Lily, but +you may be sure that I will do for Major Grantly all the good that I +can do for him."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Grace?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind what I mean. You are very imperious in managing your own +affairs, and you must let me be so equally in mine."</p> + +<p>"But I tell you everything."</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose that if—if—if in real truth it can possibly be the +case that Major Grantly shall have come here to offer me his hand +when we are all ground down in the dust, as we are, do you think that +I will let him sacrifice himself? Would you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Why not? There will be no sacrifice. He will be asking +for that which he wishes to get; and you will be bound to give it to +him."</p> + +<p>"If he wants it, where is his nobility? If it be as you say, he will +have shown himself noble, and his nobility will have consisted in +this, that he has been willing to take that which he does not want, +in order that he may succour the one whom he loves. I also will +succour one whom I love, as best I know how." Then she walked on +quickly before her friend, and Lily stood for a moment thinking +before she followed her. They were now on a field-path, by which they +were enabled to escape the road back to Allington for the greater +part of the distance, and Grace had reached a stile, and had +clambered over it before Lily had caught her.</p> + +<p>"You must not go away by yourself," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to go away by myself."</p> + +<p>"I want you to stop a moment and listen to me. I am sure you are +wrong in this,—wrong for both your sakes. You believe that he loves +you?"</p> + +<p>"I thought he did once; and if he has come here to see me, I suppose +he does still."</p> + +<p>"If that be the case, and if you also love him<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I do. I make no mystery about that to you. I do love him with all my +heart. I love him to-day, now that I believe him to be here, and that +I suppose I shall see him, perhaps this very afternoon. And I loved +him yesterday, when I thought that I should never see him again. I do +love him. I do. I love him so well that I will never do him an +injury."</p> + +<p>"That being so, if he makes you an offer you are bound to accept it. +I do not think that you have an alternative."</p> + +<p>"I have an alternative, and I shall use it. Why don't you take my +cousin John?"</p> + +<p>"Because I like somebody else better. If you have got as good a +reason, I won't say another word to you."</p> + +<p>"And why don't you take that other person?"</p> + +<p>"Because I cannot trust his love; that is why. It is not very kind of +you, opening my sores afresh, when I am trying to heal yours."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lily, am I unkind,—unkind to you, who have been so generous to +me?"</p> + +<p>"I'll forgive you all that and a deal more if you will only listen to +me and try to take my advice. Because this major of yours does a +generous thing, which is for the good of you both,—the infinite good +of both of you,—you are to emulate his generosity by doing a thing +which will be for the good of neither of you. That is about it. Yes, +it is, Grace. You cannot doubt that he has been meaning this for some +time past; and of course, if he looks upon you as his own,—and I +dare say, if the whole truth is to be told, he does<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"But I am not his own."</p> + +<p>"Yes you are, in one sense; you have just said so with a great deal +of energy. And if it is so,—let me see, where was I?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lily, you need not mind where you were."</p> + +<p>"But I do mind, and I hate to be interrupted in my arguments. Yes, +just that. If he saw his cow sick, he'd try to doctor the cow in her +sickness. He sees that you are sick, and of course he comes to your +relief."</p> + +<p>"I am not Major Grantly's cow."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are."</p> + +<p>"Nor his dog, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is his, +except—except, Lily, the dearest friend that he has on the face of +the earth. He cannot have a friend that will go further for him +than I will. He will never know how far I will go to serve him. You +don't know his people. Nor do I know them. But I know what they are. +His sister is married to a marquis."</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with it?" said Lily, sharply. "If she were +married to an archduke, what difference would that make?"</p> + +<p>"And they are proud people—all of them—and rich; and they live with +high persons in the world."</p> + +<p>"I didn't care though they lived with the royal family, and had the +Prince of Wales for their bosom friend. It only shows how much better +he is than they are."</p> + +<p>"But think what my family is,—how we are situated. When my father +was simply poor I did not care about it, because he has been born and +bred a gentleman. But now he is disgraced. Yes, Lily, he is. I am +bound to say so, at any rate to myself, when I am thinking of Major +Grantly; and I will not carry that disgrace into a family which would +feel it so keenly as they would do." Lily, however, went on with her +arguments, and was still arguing when they turned the corner of the +lane, and came upon Lily's uncle and the major himself.</p> + + +<p><a name="c30" id="c30"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXX</h3> +<h3>Showing What Major Grantly Did After His Walk<br /> </h3> + + +<p>In going down from the church to the Small House Lily Dale had all +the conversation to herself. During some portion of the way the path +was only broad enough for two persons, and here Major Grantly walked +by Lily's side, while Grace followed them. Then they found their way +into the house, and Lily made her little speech to her mother about +catching the major. "Yes, my dear, I have seen Major Grantly before," +said Mrs Dale. "I suppose he has met you on the road. But I did not +expect that any of you would have returned so soon." Some little +explanation followed as to the squire, and as to Major Grantly's +walk, and after that the great thing was to leave the two lovers +alone. "You will dine here, of course, Major Grantly," Mrs Dale said. +But this he declined. He had learned, he said, that there was a +night-train up to London, and he thought that he would return to town +by that. He had intended, when he left London, to get back as soon as +possible. Then Mrs Dale, having hesitated for two or three seconds, +got up and left the room, and Lily followed. "It seems very odd and +abrupt," said Mrs Dale to her daughter, "but I suppose it is best." +"Of course, it is best, mamma. Do as one would be done by,—that's +the only rule. It will be much better for her that she should have it +over."</p> + +<p>Grace was seated on a sofa, and Major Grantly got up from his chair, +and came and stood opposite to her. "Grace," he said, "I hope you are +not angry with me for coming down to see you here."</p> + +<p>"No, I am not angry," she said.</p> + +<p>"I have thought a great deal about it, and your friend, Miss +Prettyman, knew that I was coming. She quite approves of my coming."</p> + +<p>"She has written to me, but did not tell me of it," said Grace, not +knowing what other answer to make.</p> + +<p>"No,—she could not have done that. She had no authority. I only +mention her name because it will have weight with you, and because I +have not done that which, under other circumstances, perhaps, I +should have been bound to do. I have not seen your father."</p> + +<p>"Poor papa," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"I have felt that at the present moment I could not do so with any +success. It has not come of any want of respect either for him or for +you. Of course, Grace, you know why I am here?" He paused, and then +remembering that he had no right to expect an answer to such a +question, he continued, "I have come here, dearest Grace, to ask you +to be my wife, and to be a mother to Edith. I know that you love +Edith."</p> + +<p>"I do indeed."</p> + +<p>"And I have hoped sometimes,—though I suppose I ought not to say +so,—but I have hoped and almost thought sometimes, that you have +been willing to—to love me, too. It is better to tell the truth +simply, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"And therefore, and because I love you dearly myself, I have come to +ask you to be my wife." Saying which he opened out his hand, and held +it to her. But she did not take it. "There is my hand, Grace. If your +heart is as I would have it you can give me yours, and I shall want +nothing else to make me happy." But still she made no motion towards +granting him his request. "If I have been too sudden," he said, "you +must forgive me for that. I have been sudden and abrupt, but as +things are, no other way has been open to me. Can you not bring +yourself to give me some answer, Grace?" His hand had now fallen +again to his side, but he was still standing before her.</p> + +<p>She had said no word to him as yet, except that one in which she had +acknowledged her love for his child, and had expressed no surprise, +even in her countenance, at his proposal. And yet the idea that he +should do such a thing, since the idea that he certainly would do it +had become clear to her, had filled her with a world of surprise. No +girl ever lived with any beauty belonging to her who had a smaller +knowledge of her own possession than Grace Crawley. Nor had she the +slightest pride in her own acquirements. That she had been taught in +many things more than had been taught to other girls, had come of her +poverty and of the desolation of her home. She had learned to read +Greek and Italian because there had been nothing else for her to do +in that sad house. And, subsequently, accuracy of knowledge had been +necessary for the earning of her bread. I think that Grace had at +times been weak enough to envy the idleness and almost to envy the +ignorance of other girls. Her figure was light, perfect in symmetry, +full of grace at all points; but she had thought nothing of her +figure, remembering only the poverty of her dress, but remembering +also with a brave resolution that she would never be ashamed of it. +And as her acquaintance with Major Grantly had begun and had grown, +and as she had learned to feel unconsciously that his company was +pleasanter to her than that of any other person she knew, she had +still told herself that anything like love must be out of the +question. But then words had been spoken, and there had been glances +in his eye, and a tone in his voice, and a touch upon his fingers, of +which she could not altogether refuse to accept the meaning. And +others had spoken to her of it, the two Miss Prettymans and her +friend Lily. Yet she would not admit to herself that it could be so, +and she would not allow herself to confess to herself that she loved +him. Then had come the last killing misery to which her father had +been subjected. He had been accused of stealing money, and had been +committed to be tried for the theft. From that moment, at any rate, +any hope, if there had been a hope, must be crushed. But she swore to +herself bravely that there had been no such hope. And she assured +herself also that nothing had passed which had entitled her to expect +anything beyond ordinary friendship from the man of whom she +certainly had thought much. Even if those touches and those tones and +those glances had meant anything, all such meaning must be +annihilated by this disgrace which had come upon her. She might know +that her father was innocent; she might be sure, at any rate, that he +had been innocent in intention; but the world thought differently, +and she, her brother and sister, and her mother and her poor father, +must bend to the world's opinion. If those dangerous joys had meant +anything, they must be taken as meaning nothing more.</p> + +<p>Thus she had argued with herself, and, fortified by such +self-teachings, she had come down to Allington. Since she had been +with her friends there had come upon her from day to day a clear +conviction that her arguments had been undoubtedly true,—a clear +conviction which had been very cold to her heart in spite of all her +courage. She had expected nothing, hoped for nothing, and yet when +nothing came she was sad. She thought of one special half-hour in +which he had said almost all that he might have said,—more than he +ought to have said;—of a moment during which her hand had remained +in his; of a certain pressure with which he had put her shawl upon +her shoulders. If he had only written to her one word to tell her +that he believed her father was innocent! But no; she had no right to +expect anything from him. And then Lily had ceased to talk of him, +and she did expect nothing. Now he was there before her, asking her +to come to him and be his wife. Yes; she would kiss his shoebuckles, +only that the kissing of his shoebuckles would bring upon him that +injury which he should never suffer from her hands! He had been +generous, and her self-pride was satisfied. But her other pride was +touched, and she also would be generous. "Can you not bring yourself +to give me some answer?" he had said to her. Of course she must give +him an answer, but how should she give it?</p> + +<p>"You are very kind," she said.</p> + +<p>"I would be more than kind."</p> + +<p>"So you are. Kind is a cold word when used to such a friend at such a +time."</p> + +<p>"I would be everything on earth to you that a man can be to a woman."</p> + +<p>"I know I ought to thank you if I knew how. My heart is full of +thanks; it is indeed."</p> + +<p>"And is there no room for love there?"</p> + +<p>"There is no room for love in our house, Major Grantly. You have not +seen papa."</p> + +<p>"No; but if you wish it, I will do so at once."</p> + +<p>"It would do no good;—none. I only asked you because you can +hardly know how sad is our state at home."</p> + +<p>"But I cannot see that that need deter you, if you can love me."</p> + +<p>"Can you not? If you saw him, and the house, and my mother, you would +not say so. In the Bible it is said of some season that it is not a +time for marrying, or for giving in marriage. And so it is with us."</p> + +<p>"I am not pressing you as to a day. I only ask you to say that you +will be engaged to me,—so that I may tell my own people, and let it +be known."</p> + +<p>"I understand all that. I know how good you are. But, Major Grantly, +you must understand me also when I assure you that it cannot be so."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that you refuse me altogether?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; altogether."</p> + +<p>"And why?"</p> + +<p>"Must I answer that question? Ought I to be made to answer it? But I +will tell you fairly, without touching on anything else, that I feel +that we are all disgraced, and that I will not take disgrace into +another family."</p> + +<p>"Grace, do you love me?"</p> + +<p>"I love no one now,—that is, as you mean. I can love no one. I have +no room for any feeling except for my father and mother, and for us +all. I should not be here now but that I save my mother the bread +that I should eat at home."</p> + +<p>"Is it as bad as that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is as bad as that. It is much worse than that, if you knew +it all. You cannot conceive how low we have fallen. And now they tell +me that my father will be found guilty, and will be sent to prison. +Putting ourselves out of the question, what would you think of a girl +who could engage herself to any man under such circumstances? What +would you think of a girl who would allow herself to be in love in +such a position? Had I been ten times engaged to you I would have +broken it off." Then she got up to leave him.</p> + +<p>But he stopped her, holding her by the arm. "What you have said will +make me say what I certainly should never have said without it. I +declare that we are engaged."</p> + +<p>"No, we are not," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"You have told me that you loved me."</p> + +<p>"I never told you so."</p> + +<p>"There are other ways of speaking than the voice; and I will boast to +you, though to no one else, that you have told me so. I believe you +love me. I shall hold myself as engaged to you, and I shall think you +false if I hear that you listen to another man. Now, good-by, +Grace;—my own Grace."</p> + +<p>"No, I am not your own," she said, through her tears.</p> + +<p>"You are my own, my very own. God bless you, dear, dear, dearest +Grace. You shall hear from me in a day or two, and shall see me as +soon as this horrid trial is over." Then he took her in his arms +before she could escape from him, and kissed her forehead and her +lips, whilst she struggled in his arms. After that he left the room +and the house as quickly as he could, and was seen no more of the +Dales upon that occasion.</p> + + +<p><a name="c31" id="c31"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXI</h3> +<h3>Showing How Major Grantly Returned to Guestwick<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Grace, when she was left alone, threw herself upon the sofa, and hid +her face in her hands. She was weeping almost hysterically, and had +been utterly dismayed and frightened by her lover's impetuosity. +Things had gone after a fashion which her imagination had not painted +to her as possible. Surely she had the power to refuse the man if she +pleased. And yet she felt as she lay there weeping that she did in +truth belong to him as part of his goods, and that her generosity had +been foiled. She had especially resolved that she would not confess +to any love for him. She had made no such confession. She had guarded +herself against doing so with all the care which she knew how to use. +But he had assumed the fact, and she had been unable to deny it. +Could she have lied to him, and sworn that she did not love him? +Could she have so perjured herself, even in support of her +generosity? Yes, she would have done so,—so she told herself,—if a +moment had been given to her for thought. She ought to have done so, +and she blamed herself for being so little prepared for the occasion. +The lie would be useless now. Indeed, she would have no opportunity +for telling it; for of course she would not answer,—would not even +read his letter. Though he might know that she loved him, yet she +would not be his wife. He had forced her secret from her, but he +could not force her to marry him. She did love him, but he should +never be disgraced by her love.</p> + +<p>After a while she was able to think of his conduct, and she believed +that she ought to be very angry with him. He had taken her roughly in +his arms, and had insulted her. He had forced a kiss from her. She +had felt his arms warm and close and strong about her, and had not +known whether she was in paradise or in purgatory. She was very angry +with him. She would send back his letter to him without reading +it,—without opening it, if that might be possible. He had done that +to her which nothing could justify. But yet,—yet,—yet how dearly +she loved him! Was he not a prince of men? He had behaved badly, of +course; but had any man ever behaved so badly before in so divine a +way? Was it not a thousand pities that she should be driven to deny +anything to a lover who so richly deserved everything that could be +given to him? He had kissed her hand as he let her go, and now, not +knowing what she did, she kissed the spot on which she had felt his +lips. His arm had been round her waist, and the old frock which she +wore should be kept by her for ever, because it had been so graced.</p> + +<p>What was she now to say to Lily and to Lily's mother? Of one thing +there was no doubt. She would never tell them of her lover's wicked +audacity. That was a secret never to be imparted to any ears. She +would keep her resentment to herself, and not ask the protection of +any vicarious wrath. He could never so sin again, that was certain; +and she would keep all knowledge and memory of the sin for her own +purposes. But how could it be that such a man as that, one so good +though so sinful, so glorious though so great a trespasser, should +have come to such a girl as her and have asked for her love? Then she +thought of her father's poverty and the misery of her own condition, +and declared to herself that it was very wonderful.</p> + +<p>Lily was the first to enter the room, and she, before she did so, +learned from the servant that Major Grantly had left the house. "I +heard the door, miss, and then I saw the top of his hat out of the +pantry window." Armed with this certain information, Lily entered the +drawing-room, and found Grace in the act of rising from the sofa.</p> + +<p>"Am I disturbing you," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"No; not at all. I am glad you have come. Kiss me, and be good to +me." And she twined her arms about Lily and embraced her.</p> + +<p>"Am I not always good to you, you simpleton? Has he been good?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean?"</p> + +<p>"And have you been good to him?"</p> + +<p>"As good as I knew how, Lily."</p> + +<p>"And where is he?"</p> + +<p>"He has gone away. I shall never see him any more, Lily."</p> + +<p>Then she hid her face upon her friend's shoulder and broke forth +again into hysterical tears.</p> + +<p>"But tell me, Grace, what he said;—that is, if you mean to tell me!"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you everything;—that is, everything I can." And Grace +blushed as she thought of the one secret which she certainly would +not tell.</p> + +<p>"Has he,—has he done what I said he would do? Come, speak out +boldly. Has he asked you to be his wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Grace, barely whispering the word.</p> + +<p>"And you have accepted him?"</p> + +<p>"No, Lily, I have not. Indeed, I have not. I did not know how to +speak, because I was surprised;—and he, of course, could say what he +liked. But I told him as well as I could, that I would not marry +him."</p> + +<p>"And why;—did you tell him why?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; because of papa!"</p> + +<p>"Then, if he is the man I take him to be, that answer will go for +nothing. Of course he knew all that before he came here. He did not +think you were an heiress with forty thousand pounds. If he is in +earnest, that will go for nothing. And I think he is in earnest."</p> + +<p>"And so was I in earnest."</p> + +<p>"Well, Grace;—we shall see."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I may have a will of my own, Lily."</p> + +<p>"Do not be sure of that. Women are not allowed to have wills of their +own on all occasions. Some man comes in a girl's way, and she gets to +be fond of him, just because he does come in her way. Well; when that +has taken place, she has no alternative but to be taken if he chooses +to take her; or to be left, if he chooses to leave her."</p> + +<p>"Lily, don't say that."</p> + +<p>"But I do say it. A man may assure himself that he will find for +himself a wife who shall be learned, or beautiful, or six feet high, +if he wishes it, or who has red hair, or red eyes, or red +cheeks,—just what he pleases; and he may go about till he finds it, +as you can go about and match your worsteds. You are a fool if you +buy a colour you don't want. But we can never match our worsteds for +that other piece of work, but are obliged to take any colour that +comes,—and therefore it is that we make such a jumble of it! Here's +mamma. We must not be philosophical before her. Mamma, Major Grantly +has—skedaddled."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lily, what a word!"</p> + +<p>"But, oh, mamma, what a thing! Fancy his going away and not saying a +word to anybody!"</p> + +<p>"If he had anything to say to Grace, I suppose he said it."</p> + +<p>"He asked her to marry him, of course. We none of us had any doubt +about that. He swore to her that she and none but she should be his +wife,—and all that kind of thing. But he seems to have done it in +the most prosaic way;—and now he has gone away without saying a word +to any of us. I shall never speak to him again,—unless Grace asks +me."</p> + +<p>"Grace, my dear, may I congratulate you?" said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>Grace did not answer, as Lily was too quick for her. "Oh, she has +refused him, of course. But, Major Grantly is a man of too much sense +to expect that he should succeed the first time. Let me see; this is +the fourteenth. These clocks run fourteen days, and, therefore, you +may expect him again about the twenty-eighth. For myself, I think you +are giving him an immense deal of unnecessary trouble, and that if he +left you in the lurch it would only serve you right; but you have the +world with you, I'm told. A girl is supposed to tell a man two fibs +before she may tell him one truth."</p> + +<p>"I told him no fib, Lily. I told him that I would not marry him, and +I will not."</p> + +<p>"But why not, dear Grace?" said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>"Because the people say that papa is a thief!" Having said this, +Grace walked slowly out of the room, and neither Mrs Dale nor Lily +attempted to follow her.</p> + +<p>"She's as good as gold," said Lily, when the door was closed.</p> + +<p>"And he;—what of him?"</p> + +<p>"I think he is good too; but she has told me nothing yet of what he +has said to her. He must be good, or he would not have come down here +after her. But I don't wonder at his coming, because she is so +beautiful! Once or twice as we were walking back to-day, I thought +her face was the most lovely that I had ever seen. And did you see +her just now, as she spoke of her father?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes;—I saw her."</p> + +<p>"Think what she will be in two or three years' time, when she becomes +a woman. She talks French, and Italian, and Hebrew for anything that +I know; and she is perfectly beautiful. I never saw a more lovely +figure;—and she has spirit enough for a goddess. I don't think that +Major Grantly is such a fool after all."</p> + +<p>"I never took him for a fool."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt all his own people do;—or they will, when they hear +of it. But, mamma, she will grow to be big enough to walk atop of all +the Lady Hartletops in England. It will all come right at last."</p> + +<p>"You think it will?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Why should it not? If he is worth having, it will;—and I +think he is worth having. He must wait till this horrid trial is +over. It is clear to me that Grace thinks that her father will be +convicted."</p> + +<p>"But he cannot have taken the money."</p> + +<p>"I think he took it, and I think it wasn't his. But I don't think he +stole it. I don't know whether you can understand the difference."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid a jury won't understand it."</p> + +<p>"A jury of men will not. I wish they could put you and me on it, +mamma. I would take my best boots and eat them down to the heels, for +Grace's sake, and for Major Grantly's. What a good-looking man he +is!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is."</p> + +<p>"And so like a gentleman! I'll tell you what, mamma; we won't say +anything to her about him for the present. Her heart will be so full +she will be driven to talk, and we can comfort her better in that +way." The mother and daughter agreed to act upon these tactics, and +nothing more was said to Grace about her lover on that evening.</p> + +<p>Major Grantly walked from Mrs Dale's house to the inn and ordered his +gig, and drove himself out of Allington, almost without remembering +where he was or whither he was going. He was thinking solely of what +had just occurred, and of what, on his part, should follow as the +result of that meeting. Half at least of the noble deeds done in this +world are due to emulation, rather than to the native nobility of the +actors. A young man leads a forlorn hope because another young man +has offered to do so. Jones in the hunting-field rides at an +impracticable fence because he is told that Smith took it three years +ago. And Walker puts his name down for ten guineas at a charitable +dinner, when he hears Thompson's read out for five. And in this case +the generosity and self-denial shown by Grace warmed and cherished +similar virtues within her lover's breast. Some few weeks ago Major +Grantly had been in doubt as to what his duty required of him in +reference to Grace Crawley; but he had no doubt whatsoever now. In +the fervour of his admiration he would have gone straight to the +archdeacon, had it been possible, and have told him what he had done +and what he intended to do. Nothing now should stop him;—no +consideration, that is, either as regarded money or position. He had +pledged himself solemnly, and he was very glad that he had pledged +himself. He would write to Grace and explain to her that he trusted +altogether in her father's honour and innocence, but that no +consideration as to that ought to influence either him or her in any +way. If, independently of her father, she could bring herself to come +to him and be his wife, she was bound to do so now, let the position +of her father be what it might. And thus, as he drove his gig back +towards Guestwick, he composed a very pretty letter to the lady of +his love.</p> + +<p>And as he went, at the corner of the lane which led from the main +road up to Guestwick cottage, he again came upon John Eames, who was +also returning to Guestwick. There had been a few words spoken +between Lady Julia and Johnny respecting Major Grantly after the +girls had left the cottage, and Johnny had been persuaded that the +strange visitor to Allington could have no connexion with his +arch-enemy. "And why has he gone to Allington," John demanded, +somewhat sternly, of his hostess.</p> + +<p>"Well; if you ask me, I think he has gone there to see your cousin, +Grace Crawley."</p> + +<p>"He told me that he knew Grace," said John, looking as though he were +conscious of his own ingenuity in putting two and two together very +cleverly.</p> + +<p>"Your cousin Grace is a very pretty girl," said Lady Julia.</p> + +<p>"It's a long time since I've seen her," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Why, you saw her just this minute," said Lady Julia.</p> + +<p>"I didn't look at her," said Johnny. Therefore, when he again met +Major Grantly, having continued to put two and two together with +great ingenuity, he felt quite sure that the man had nothing to do +with the arch-enemy, and he determined to be gracious. "Did you find +them at home at Allington," he said, raising his hat.</p> + +<p>"How do you do again?" said the major. "Yes, I found your friend Mrs +Dale at home."</p> + +<p>"But not her daughter, or my cousin? They were up there;—where I've +come from. But, perhaps, they had got back before you left."</p> + +<p>"I saw them both. They found me on the road with Mr Dale."</p> + +<p>"What,—the squire? Then you have seen everybody?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody I wished to see at Allington."</p> + +<p>"But you wouldn't stay at the 'Red Lion'?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no. I remembered that I wanted to get back to London; and as I +had seen my friends, I thought I might as well hurry away."</p> + +<p>"You knew Mrs Dale before, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't. I never saw her in my life before. But I knew the old +squire when I was a boy. However, I should have said friend. I went +to see one friend, and I saw her."</p> + +<p>John Eames perceived that his companion put a strong emphasis on the +word "her", as though he were determined to declare boldly that he +had gone to Allington solely to see Grace Crawley. He had not the +slightest objection to recognising in Major Grantly a suitor for his +cousin's hand. He could only reflect what an unusually fortunate girl +Grace must be if such a thing could be true. Of those poor Crawleys +he had only heard from time to time that their misfortunes were as +numerous as the sands on the sea-shore, and as unsusceptible of any +fixed and permanent arrangement. But, as regarded Grace, here would +be a very permanent arrangement. Tidings had reached him that Grace +was a great scholar, but he had never heard much of her beauty. It +must probably be the case that Major Grantly was fond of Greek. There +was, he reminded himself, no accounting for tastes; but as nothing +could be more respectable than such an alliance, he thought that it +would become him to be civil to the major.</p> + +<p>"I hope you found her quite well. I had barely time to speak to her +myself."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she was very well. This is a sad thing about her father."</p> + +<p>"Very sad," said Johnny. Perhaps the major had heard about the +accusation for the first time to-day, and was going to find an escape +on that plea. If such was the case, it would not be so well to be +particularly civil.</p> + +<p>"I believe Mr Crawley is a cousin of yours?" said the major.</p> + +<p>"His wife is my mother's first-cousin. Their mothers were sisters."</p> + +<p>"She is an excellent woman."</p> + +<p>"I believe so. I don't know much about them myself,—that is, +personally. Of course I have heard of this charge that has been made +against him. It seems to me to be a great shame."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't exactly say that it is a shame. I do not know that +there has been anything done with a feeling of persecution or of +cruelty. It is a great mystery, and we must have it cleared up if we +can."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose he can have been guilty," said John.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not in the ordinary sense of the word. I heard all the +evidence against him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you did?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the major. "I live near them in Barsetshire, and I am one +of his bailsmen."</p> + +<p>"Then you are an old friend, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly that; but circumstances made me very much interested +about them. I fancy that the cheque was left in his house by +accident, and that it got into his hands he didn't know how, and that +when he used it he thought it was his."</p> + +<p>"That's queer," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"He is very odd, you know."</p> + +<p>"But it's a kind of oddity that they don't like at the assizes."</p> + +<p>"The great cruelty is," said the major, "that whatever may be the +result, the punishment will fall so heavily upon his wife and +daughters. I think the whole county ought to come forward and take +them by the hand. Well, good-by. I'll drive on, as I'm a little in a +hurry."</p> + +<p>"Good-by," said Johnny. "I'm very glad to have had the pleasure of +meeting you." "He's a good sort of fellow after all," he said to +himself when the gig had passed on. "He wouldn't have talked in that +way if he meant to hang back."</p> + + +<p><a name="c32" id="c32"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXII</h3> +<h3>Mr Toogood<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Mr Crawley had declared to Mr Robarts, that he would summon no legal +aid to his assistance at the coming trial. The reader may, perhaps, +remember the impetuosity with which he rejected the advice on this +subject which was conveyed to him by Mr Robarts with all the +authority of Archdeacon Grantly's name. "Tell the archdeacon," he had +said, "that I will have none of his advice." And then Mr Robarts had +left him, fully convinced that any further interference on his part +could be of no avail. Nevertheless, the words which had then been +spoken were not without effect. This coming trial was ever present to +Mr Crawley's mind, and though, when driven to discuss the subject, he +would speak of it with high spirit, as he had done both to the bishop +and to Mr Robarts, yet in his long hours of privacy, or when alone +with his wife, his spirit was anything but high. "It will kill me," +he would say to her. "I shall get salvation thus. Death will relieve +me, and I shall never be called upon to stand before those cruel +eager eyes." Then would she try to say words of comfort, sometimes +soothing him as though he were a child, and at others bidding him be +a man, and remember that as a man he should have sufficient endurance +to bear the eyes of any crowd that might be there to look at him.</p> + +<p>"I think I will go up to London," he said to her one evening, very +soon after the day of Mr Robarts's visit.</p> + +<p>"Go up to London, Josiah!" Mr Crawley had not been up to London once +since they had been settled at Hogglestock, and this sudden +resolution on his part frightened his wife. "Go up to London, +dearest! And why?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you why. They all say that I should speak to some man of +the law whom I may trust about this coming trial. I trust no one in +these parts. Not, mark you, that I say that they are untrustworthy. +God forbid that I should so speak or even so think of men whom I know +not. But the matter has become so common in men's mouths at +Barchester and at Silverbridge, that I cannot endure to go among them +and to talk of it. I will go up to London, and I will see your +cousin, Mr John Toogood, of Gray's Inn." Now in this scheme there was +an amount of everyday prudence which startled Mrs Crawley almost as +much as did the prospect of the difficulties to be overcome if the +journey were to be made. Her husband, in the first place, had never +once seen Mr John Toogood; and in days very long back, when he and +she were making their first gallant struggle,—for in those days it +had been gallant,—down in their Cornish curacy, he had reprobated +certain Toogood civilities,—professional civilities,—which had been +proffered, perhaps, with too plain an intimation that on the score of +relationship the professional work should be done without payment. +The Mr Toogood of those days, who had been Mrs Crawley's uncle, and +the father of Mrs Eames and grandfather of our friend Johnny Eames, +had been much angered by some correspondence which had grown up +between him and Mr Crawley, and from that day there had been a +cessation of all intercourse between the families. Since those days +that Toogood had been gathered to the ancient Toogoods of old, and +the son reigned on the family throne in Raymond's Buildings. The +present Toogood was therefore first-cousin to Mrs Crawley. But there +had been no intimacy between them. Mrs Crawley had not seen her +cousin since her marriage,—as indeed she had seen none of her +relations, having been estranged from them by the singular bearing of +her husband. She knew that her cousin stood high in his profession, +the firm of Toogood and Crump,—Crump and Toogood it should have been +properly called in these days,—having always held its head up high +above all dirty work; and she felt that her husband could look for +advice from no better source. But how would such a one as he manage +to tell his story to a stranger? Nay, how would he find his way alone +into the lawyer's room, to tell his story at all,—so strange was he +to the world? And then the expense! "If you do not wish me to apply +to your cousin, say so, and there shall be an end of it," said Mr +Crawley in an angry tone.</p> + +<p>"Of course I would wish it. I believe him to be an excellent man, and +a good lawyer."</p> + +<p>"Then why should I not go to his chambers? In formâ pauperis I must +go to him, and must tell him so. I cannot pay him for the labour of +his counsel, nor for such minutes of his time as I shall use."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Josiah, you need not speak of that."</p> + +<p>"But I must speak of it. Can I go to a professional man, who keeps as +it were his shop open for those who may think fit to come, and +purchase of him, and take of his goods, and afterwards, when the +goods have been used, tell him that I have not the price in my hand? +I will not do that, Mary. You think that I am mad, that I know not +what I do. Yes,—I see it in your eyes; and you are sometimes partly +right. But I am not so mad but that I know what is honest. I will +tell your cousin that I am sore straitened, and brought down into the +very dust by misfortune. And I will beseech him, for what of ancient +feeling of family he may bear to you, to listen to me for a while. +And I will be very short, and, if need be, will bide his time +patiently, and perhaps he may say a word to me that may be of use."</p> + +<p>There was certainly very much in this to provoke Mrs Crawley. It was +not only that she knew well that her cousin would give ample and +immediate attention, and lend himself thoroughly to the matter +without any idea of payment,—but that she could not quite believe +that her husband's humility was true humility. She strove to believe +it, but knew that she failed. After all it was only a feeling on her +part. There was no argument within herself about it. An unpleasant +taste came across the palate of her mind, as such a savour will +sometimes, from some unexpected source, come across the palate of the +mouth. Well; she could only gulp at it, and swallow it and excuse it. +Among the salad that comes from your garden a bitter leaf will now +and then make its way into your salad-bowl. Alas, there were so many +bitter leaves ever making their way into her bowl! "What I mean is, +Josiah, that no long explanation will be needed. I think, from what I +remember of him, that he would do for us anything that he could do."</p> + +<p>"Then I will go to the man, and will humble myself before him. Even +that, hard as it is to me, may be a duty that I owe." Mr Crawley as +he said this was remembering the fact that he was a clergyman of the +Church of England, and that he had a rank of his own in the country, +which, did he ever do such a thing as go out for dinner in company, +would establish for him a certain right of precedence; whereas this +attorney, of whom he was speaking, was, so to say, nobody in the eyes +of the world.</p> + +<p>"There need be no humbling, Josiah, other than that which is due from +man to man in all circumstances. But never mind; we will not talk +about that. If it seems good to you, go to Mr Toogood. I think that +it is good. May I write to him and say that you will go?"</p> + +<p>"I will write myself; it will be more seemly."</p> + +<p>Then the wife paused before she asked the next question,—paused for +some minute or two, and than asked it with anxious doubt,—"And may I +go with you, Josiah?"</p> + +<p>"Why should two go when one can do the work?" he answered sharply. +"Have we money so much at command?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, no."</p> + +<p>"You should go and do it all, for you are wiser in these things than +I am, were it not that I may not dare to show—that I submit myself +to my wife."</p> + +<p>"Nay, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"But it is ay, my dear. It is so. This is a thing such as men do; not +such as women do, unless they be forlorn and unaided of men. I know +that I am weak where you are strong; that I am crazed where you are +clear-witted."</p> + +<p>"I meant not that, Josiah. It was of your health that I thought."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless it is as I say; but, for all that, it may not be that +you should do my work. There are those watching me who would say, +'Lo! He confesses himself incapable.' And then some one would whisper +something of a madhouse. Mary, I fear that worse than a prison."</p> + +<p>"May God in His mercy forbid such cruelty!"</p> + +<p>"But I must look to it, my dear. Do you think that that woman, who +sits there at Barchester in high places, disgracing herself and that +puny ecclesiastical lord who is her husband,—do you think that she +would not immure me if she could? She is a she-wolf,—only less +reasonable than the dumb brute as she sharpens her teeth in malice +coming from anger, and not in malice coming from hunger as do the +outer wolves of the forest. I tell you, Mary, that if she had a +colourable ground for her action, she would swear to-morrow that I am +mad."</p> + +<p>"You shall go alone to London."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will go alone. They shall not say that I cannot yet do my own +work as a man should do it. I stood up before him, the puny man who +is called a bishop, and before her who makes herself great by his +littleness, and I scorned them both to their faces. Though the shoes +which I had on were all broken, as I myself could not but see when I +stood, yet I was greater than they were with all their purple and +fine linen."</p> + +<p>"But, Josiah, my cousin will not be harsh to you."</p> + +<p>"Well,—and if he be not?"</p> + +<p>"Ill-usage you can bear; and violent ill-usage, such as that which +Mrs Proudie allowed herself to exhibit, you can repay with interest; +but kindness seems to be too heavy a burden for you."</p> + +<p>"I will struggle. I will endeavour. I will speak but little, and, if +possible, I will listen much. Now, my dear, I will write to this man, +and you shall give me the address that is proper for him." Then he +wrote the letter, not accepting a word in the way of dictation from +his wife, but "craving the great kindness of a short interview, for +which he ventured to become a solicitor, urged thereto by his wife's +assurance that one with whom he was connected by family ties would do +as much as this for the possible preservation of the honour of the +family." In answer to this Mr Toogood wrote back as follows:—"Dear +Mr Crawley, I will be at my office all Thursday morning next from ten +to two, and will take care that you shan't be kept waiting for me +above ten minutes. You parsons never like waiting. But hadn't you +better come and breakfast with me and Maria at nine? Then we'd have a +talk as we walk to the office. Yours always, +<span class="smallcaps">Thomas Toogood</span>." And the +letter was dated from the attorney's private house in Tavistock +Square.</p> + +<p>"I am sure he means to be kind," said Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"Doubtless he means to be kind. But kindness is rough;—I will not +say unmannerly, as the word would be harsh. I have never even seen +the lady whom he calls Maria."</p> + +<p>"She is his wife!"</p> + +<p>"So I would venture to suppose; but she is unknown to me. I will +write again, and thank him, and say that I will be with him at ten to +the moment."</p> + +<p>There were still many things to be settled before the journey could +be made. Mr Crawley, in his first plan, proposed that he should go up +by night mail train, travelling in the third class, having walked +over to Silverbridge to meet it; that he should then walk about +London from 5 <span class="smallcaps">a.m.</span> +to 10 <span class="smallcaps">a.m.</span>, and afterwards come down by an +afternoon train to which a third class was also attached. But at last +his wife persuaded him that such a task as that, performed in the +middle of the winter, would be enough to kill any man, and that, if +attempted, it would certainly kill him; and he consented at last to +sleep the night in town,—being specially moved thereto by +discovering that he could, in conformity with this scheme, get in and +out of the train at a station considerably nearer to him than +Silverbridge, and that he could get a return-ticket at a third-class +fare. The whole journey, he found, could be done for a pound, +allowing him seven shillings for his night's expenses in London; and +out of the resources of the family there were produced two +sovereigns, so that in the event of accident he would not utterly be +a castaway from want of funds.</p> + +<p>So he started on his journey after an early dinner, almost hopeful +through the new excitement of a journey to London, and his wife +walked with him nearly as far as the station. "Do not reject my +cousin's kindness," were the last words she spoke.</p> + +<p>"For his professional kindness, if he will extend it to me, I will be +most thankful," he replied. She did not dare to say more; nor had she +dared to write privately to her cousin, asking for any special help, +lest by doing so she should seem to impugn the sufficiency and +stability of her husband's judgment. He got up to town late at night, +and having made inquiry of one of the porters, he hired a bed for +himself in the neighbourhood of the railway station. Here he had a +cup of tea and a morsel of bread-and-butter, and in the morning he +breakfasted again on the same fare. "No, I have no luggage," he had +said to the girl at the public-house, who had asked him as to his +travelling gear. "If luggage be needed as a certificate of +respectability, I will pass on elsewhere," said he. The girl stared, +and assured him that she did not doubt his respectability. "I am a +clergyman of the Church of England," he had said, "but my +circumstances prevent me from seeking a more expensive lodging." They +did their best to make him comfortable, and, I think, almost +disappointed him in not heaping further misfortunes on his head.</p> + +<p>He was in Raymond's Buildings at half-past nine, and for half an hour +walked up and down the umbrageous pavement,—it used to be +umbrageous, but perhaps the trees have gone now,—before the doors of +the various chambers. He could hear the clock strike from Gray's Inn; +and the moment that it had struck he was turning in, but was +encountered in the passage by Mr Toogood, who was equally punctual +with himself. Strange stories about Mr Crawley had reached Mr +Toogood's household, and that Maria, the mention of whose Christian +name had been so offensive to the clergyman, had begged her husband +not to be a moment late. Poor Mr Toogood, who on ordinary days did +perhaps take a few minutes' grace, was thus hurried away almost with +his breakfast in his throat, and, as we have seen, just saved +himself. "Perhaps, sir, you are Mr Crawley?" he said, in a +good-humoured, cheery voice. He was a good-humoured, cheery-looking +man, about fifty years of age, with grizzled hair and sunburnt face, +and large whiskers. Nobody would have taken him to be a partner in +any of those great houses of which we have read in history,—the +Quirk, Gammon and Snaps of the profession, or the Dodson and Foggs, +who are immortal.</p> + +<p>"That is my name, sir," said Mr Crawley, taking off his hat and +bowing low, "and I am here by appointment to meet Mr Toogood, the +solicitor, whose name I see affixed upon the door-post."</p> + +<p>"I am Mr Toogood, the solicitor, and I hope I see you quite well, Mr +Crawley." Then the attorney shook hands with the clergyman and +preceded him upstairs to the front room on the first floor. "Here we +are, Mr Crawley, and pray take a chair. I wish you could have made it +convenient to come and see us at home. We are rather long, as my wife +says,—long in family, she means, and therefore are not very well off +for spare beds<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, sir."</p> + +<p>"I've twelve of 'em living, Mr Crawley,—from eighteen years, the +eldest,—a girl, down to eighteen months the youngest,—a boy, and +they go in and out, boy and girl, boy and girl, like the cogs of a +wheel. They ain't such far away distant cousins from your own young +ones—only first, once, as we call it."</p> + +<p>"I am aware that there is a family tie, or I should not have ventured +to trouble you."</p> + +<p>"Blood is thicker than water, isn't it? I often say that. I heard of +one of your girls only yesterday. She is staying somewhere down in +the country, not far from where my sister lives—Mrs Eames, the widow +of poor John Eames, who never did any good in this world. I daresay +you've heard of her?"</p> + +<p>"The name is familiar to me, Mr Toogood."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is. I've a nephew down there just now, and he saw your +girl the other day;—very highly he spoke of her too. Let me +see;—how many is it you have?"</p> + +<p>"Three living, Mr Toogood."</p> + +<p>"I've just four times three;—that's the difference. But I comfort +myself with the text about the quiver you know; and I tell them that +when they've eat up all the butter, they'll have to take their bread +dry."</p> + +<p>"I trust the young people take your teaching in the proper spirit."</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about spirit. There's spirit enough. My second +girl, Lucy, told me that if I came home to-day without tickets for +the pantomime I shouldn't have any dinner allowed me. That's the way +they treat me. But we understand each other at home. We're all pretty +good friends there, thank God. And there isn't a sick chick among the +boiling."</p> + +<p>"You have many mercies for which you should indeed be thankful," said +Mr Crawley, gravely.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes; that's true. I think of that sometimes, though +perhaps not so much as I ought to do. But the best way to be thankful +is to use the goods the gods provide you. 'The lovely Thais sits +beside you. Take the goods the gods provide you.' I often say that to +my wife, till the children have got to calling her Thais. The +children have it pretty much their own way with us, Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>By this time Mr Crawley was almost beside himself, and was altogether +at a loss how to bring in the matter on which he wished to speak. He +had expected to find a man who in the hurry of London business might +perhaps just manage to spare him five minutes,—who would grapple +instantly with the subject that was to be discussed between them, +would speak to him half-a-dozen hard words of wisdom, and would then +dismiss him and turn on the instant to other matters of important +business;—but here was an easy familiar fellow, who seemed to have +nothing on earth to do, and who at this first meeting had taken +advantage of a distant family connexion to tell him everything about +the affairs of his own household. And then how peculiar were the +domestic traits which he told! What was Mr Crawley to say to a man +who had taught his own children to call their mother Thais? Of Thais +Mr Crawley did know something, and he forgot to remember that perhaps +Mr Toogood knew less. He felt it, however, to be very difficult to +submit the details of his case to a gentleman who talked in such a +strain about his own wife and children.</p> + +<p>But something must be done. Mr Crawley, in his present frame of mind, +could not sit and talk about Thais all day. "Sir," he said, "the +picture of your home is very pleasant, and I presume that plenty +abounds there."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, pretty toll-loll for that. With twelve of 'em, Mr +Crawley, I needn't tell you they are not going to have castles and +parks of their own, unless they can get 'em off their own bats. But I +pay upwards of a hundred a year each for my eldest three boys' +schooling, and I've been paying eighty for the girls. Put that and +that together and see what it comes to. Educate, educate, educate; +that's my word."</p> + +<p>"No better word can be spoken, sir."</p> + +<p>"I don't think there's a girl in Tavistock Square that can beat +Polly,—she's the eldest, called after her mother, you know,—that +can beat her at the piano. And Lucy has read Lord Byron and Tom Moore +all through, every word of 'em. By Jove, I believe she knows most of +Tom Moore by heart. And the young uns are coming on just as well."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, sir, as your time is, no doubt, +precious<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Just at this time of the day we don't care so much about it, Mr +Crawley; and one doesn't catch a new cousin every day, you know."</p> + +<p>"However, if you will allow me,—"</p> + +<p>"We'll tackle to? Very well; so be it. Now, Mr Crawley, let me hear +what it is that I can do for you." Of a sudden, as Mr Toogood spoke +these last words, the whole tone of his voice seemed to change, and +even the position of his body became so much altered as to indicate a +different kind of man. "You just tell your story in your own way, and +I won't interrupt you till you've done. That's always the best."</p> + +<p>"I must first crave your attention to an unfortunate preliminary," +said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"And what is that?"</p> + +<p>"I come before you in formâ pauperis." Here Mr Crawley paused and +stood up before the attorney with his hands crossed one upon the +other, bending low, as though calling attention to the poorness of +his raiment. "I know that I have no justification for my conduct. I +have nothing of reason to offer why I should trespass upon your time. +I am a poor man, and cannot pay you for your services."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother!" said Mr Toogood, jumping up out of his chair.</p> + +<p>"I do not know whether your charity will grant me that which I +ask<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Don't let's have any more of this," said the attorney. "We none of +us like this kind of thing at all. If I can be of any service to you, +you're as welcome to it as flowers in May; and as for billing my +first-cousin, which your wife is, I should as soon think of sending +in an account to my own."</p> + +<p>"But, Mr Toogood—"</p> + +<p>"Do you go on now with your story; I'll put the rest all right."</p> + +<p>"I was bound to be explicit, Mr Toogood."</p> + +<p>"Very well; now you have been explicit with a vengeance, and you may +heave a-head. Let's hear the story, and if I can help you I will. +When I've said that, you may be sure I mean it. I've heard something +of it before; but let me hear it all from you."</p> + +<p>Then Mr Crawley began and told the story. Mr Toogood was actually +true to his promise and let the narrator go on with his narrative +without interruption. When Mr Crawley came to his own statement that +the cheque had been paid to him by Mr Soames, and went on to say that +that statement had been false,—"I told him that, but I told him so +wrongly," and then paused, thinking that the lawyer would ask some +question, Mr Toogood simply said, "Go on; go on. I'll come back to +all that when you've done." And he merely nodded his head when Mr +Crawley spoke of his second statement, that the money had come from +the dean. "We had been bound together by close ties of early +familiarity," said Mr Crawley, "and in former years our estates in +life were the same. But he has prospered and I have failed. And when +creditors were importunate, I consented to accept relief in money +which had previously been often offered. And I must acknowledge, Mr +Toogood, while saying this, that I have known,—have known with +heartfelt agony,—that at former times my wife has taken that from my +friend Mr Arabin, with hand half-hidden from me, which I have +refused. Whether it be better to eat—the bread of charity,—or not +to eat bread at all, I, for myself, have no doubt," he said; "but +when the want strikes one's wife and children, and the charity +strikes only oneself, then there is a doubt." When he spoke thus, Mr +Toogood got up, and thrusting his hands into his waistcoat pockets +walked about the room, exclaiming, "By George, by George, by George!" +But he still let the man go on with his story, and heard him out at +last to the end.</p> + +<p>"And they committed you for trial at the next Barchester assizes?" +said the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"They did."</p> + +<p>"And you employed no lawyer before the magistrates?"</p> + +<p>"None;—I refused to employ any one."</p> + +<p>"You were wrong there, Mr Crawley. I must be allowed to say that you +were wrong there."</p> + +<p>"I may possibly have been so from your point of view, Mr Toogood; but +permit me to explain. I<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"It's no good explaining now. Of course you must employ a lawyer for +your defence,—an attorney who will put the case into the hands of +counsel."</p> + +<p>"But that I cannot do, Mr Toogood."</p> + +<p>"You must do it. If you don't do it, your friends should do it for +you. If you don't do it, everybody will say you're mad. There isn't a +single solicitor you could find within a half a mile of you at this +moment who wouldn't give you the same advice,—not a single man, +either, who had got a head on his shoulders worth a turnip."</p> + +<p>When Mr Crawley was told that madness would be laid to his charge if +he did not do as he was bid, his face became very black, and assumed +something of that look of determined obstinacy which it had worn when +he was standing in the presence of the bishop and Mrs Proudie. "It +may be so," he said. "It may be as you say, Mr Toogood. But these +neighbours of yours, as to whose collected wisdom you speak with so +much certainty, would hardly recommend me to indulge in a luxury for +which I have no means of paying."</p> + +<p>"Who thinks about paying under such circumstances as these?"</p> + +<p>"I do, Mr Toogood."</p> + +<p>"The wretchedest costermonger that comes to grief has a barrister in +a wig and gown to give him his chance of escape."</p> + +<p>"But I am not a costermonger, Mr Toogood,—though more wretched +perhaps than any costermonger now in existence. It is my lot to have +to endure the sufferings of poverty, and at the same time not to be +exempt from those feelings of honour to which poverty is seldom +subject. I cannot afford to call in legal assistance for which I +cannot pay,—and I will not do it."</p> + +<p>"I'll carry the case through for you. It certainly is not just my +line of business,—but I'll see it carried through for you."</p> + +<p>"Out of your own pocket?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind; when I say I'll do a thing, I'll do it."</p> + +<p>"No, Mr Toogood; this thing you can not do. But do not suppose I am +the less grateful."</p> + +<p>"What is it I can do then? Why do you come to me if you won't take my +advice?"</p> + +<p>After this the conversation went on for a considerable time without +touching on any point which need be brought palpably before the +reader's eye. The attorney continued to beg the clergyman to have his +case managed in the usual way, and went so far as to tell him that he +would be ill-treating his wife and family if he continued to be +obstinate. But the clergyman was not shaken from his resolve, and was +at last able to ask Mr Toogood what he had better do,—how he had +better attempt to defend himself,—on the understanding that no legal +aid was to be employed. When this question was at last asked in such +a way as to demand an answer, Mr Toogood sat for a moment or two in +silence. He felt that an answer was not only demanded, but almost +enforced; and yet there might be much difficulty in giving it.</p> + +<p>"Mr Toogood," said Mr Crawley, seeing the attorney's hesitation, "I +declare to you before God, that my only object will be to enable the +jury to know about this sad matter all that I know myself. If I could +open my breast to them I should be satisfied. But then a prisoner can +say nothing; and what he does say is ever accounted false."</p> + +<p>"That is why you should have legal assistance."</p> + +<p>"We had already come to a conclusion on that matter, as I thought," +said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>Mr Toogood paused for a another moment or two, and then dashed at his +answer; or rather, dashed at a counter question. "Mr Crawley, where +did you get the cheque? You must pardon me, you know; or, if you wish +it, I will not press the question. But so much hangs on that, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Everything would hang on it,—if I only knew."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you forget?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely; totally. I wish, Mr Toogood, I could explain to you the +toilsome perseverance with which I have cudgelled my poor brains, +endeavouring to extract from them some scintilla of memory that would +aid me."</p> + +<p>"Could you have picked it up in the house?"</p> + +<p>"No;—no; that I did not do. Dull as I am, I know so much. It was +mine of right, from whatever source it came to me. I know myself as +no one else can know me, in spite of the wise man's motto. Had I +picked up a cheque in my house, or on the road, I should not have +slept till I had taken steps to restore it to the seeming owner. So +much I can say. But, otherwise, I am in such matters so shandy-pated, +that I can trust myself to be sure of nothing. I thought;—I +certainly thought<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"You thought what?"</p> + +<p>"I thought that it had been given to me by my friend the dean. I +remember well that I was in his library at Barchester, and I was +somewhat provoked in spirit. There were lying on the floor hundreds +of volumes, all glittering with gold, and reeking with new leather +from the binders. He asked me to look at his toys. Why should I look +at them? There was a time, but the other day it seemed, when he had +been glad to borrow from me such treasures as I had. And it seemed to +me that he was heartless in showing me these things. Well; I need not +trouble you with all that."</p> + +<p>"Go on;—go on. Let me hear it all, and I shall learn something."</p> + +<p>"I know now how vain, how vile I was. I always know afterwards how +low the spirit has grovelled. I had gone to him then because I had +resolved to humble myself, and, for my wife's sake, to ask my +friend—for money. With words which were very awkward,—which no +doubt were ungracious,—I had asked him, and he had bid me follow him +from his hall into his library. There he left me awhile, and on +returning told me with a smile that he had sent for money,—and, if I +can remember, the sum he named was fifty pounds."</p> + +<p>"But it has turned out, as you say, that you have paid fifty pounds +with his money,—besides the cheque."</p> + +<p>"That is true;—that is quite true. There is no doubt of that. But as +I was saying,—then he fell to talking about the books, and I was +angered. I was very sore in my heart. From the moment in which the +words of beggary had passed from my lips, I had repented. And he had +laughed and had taken it gaily. I turned upon him and told him that I +had changed my mind. I was grateful, but I would not have his money. +And so I prepared to go. But he argued with me, and would not let me +go,—telling me of my wife and of my children, and while he argued +there came a knock at the door, and something was handed in, and I +knew that it was the hand of his wife."</p> + +<p>"It was the money, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr Toogood; it was the money. And I became the more uneasy, +because she herself is rich. I liked it the less because it seemed to +come from her hand. But I took it. What could I do when he reminded +me that I could not keep my parish unless certain sums were paid? He +gave me a little parcel in a cover, and I took it,—and left him +sorrowing. I had never before come quite to that;—though, indeed, it +had in fact been often so before. What was the difference whether the +alms were given into my hands or into my wife's?"</p> + +<p>"You are too touchy about it all, Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"Of course I am. Do you try it, and see whether you will be touchy. +You have worked hard at your profession, I daresay."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; pretty well. To tell the truth, I have worked hard. By +George, yes! It's not so bad now as it used to be."</p> + +<p>"But you have always earned your bread; bread for yourself, and bread +for your wife and little ones. You can buy tickets for the play."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't always buy tickets, mind you."</p> + +<p>"I have worked as hard, and yet I cannot get bread. I am older than +you, and I cannot earn my bare bread. Look at my clothes. If you had +to go and beg from Mr Crump, would not you be touchy?"</p> + +<p>"As it happens, Crump isn't so well off as I am."</p> + +<p>"Never mind. But I took it, and went home, and for two days I did not +look at it. And then there came an illness upon me, and I know not +what passed. But two men who had been hard on me came to the house +when I was out, and my wife was in a terrible state; and I gave her +the money, and she went into Silverbridge and paid them."</p> + +<p>"And this cheque was with what you gave her?"</p> + +<p>"No; I gave her money in notes,—just fifty pounds. When I gave it +her, I thought I gave it all; and yet afterwards I thought I +remembered that in my illness I had found the cheque with the dean's +money. But it was not so."</p> + +<p>"You are sure of that?"</p> + +<p>"He has said that he put five notes of £10 each into the cover, and +such notes I certainly gave to my wife."</p> + +<p>"Where then did you get the cheque?" Mr Crawley again paused before +he answered. "Surely, if you will exert your mind, you will +remember," said the lawyer. "Where did you get the cheque?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know."</p> + +<p>Mr Toogood threw himself back in his chair, took his knee up into his +lap to nurse it, and began to think of it. He sat thinking of it for +some minutes without a word,—perhaps for five minutes, though the +time seemed to be much longer to Mr Crawley, who was, however, +determined that he would not interrupt him. And Mr Toogood's thoughts +were at variance with Mr Toogood's former words. Perhaps, after all, +this scheme of Mr Crawley's,—or perhaps the mode of defence on which +he had resolved without any scheme,—might be the best of which the +case admitted. It might be well that he should go into court without +a lawyer. "He has convinced me of his innocence," Mr Toogood said to +himself, "and why should he not convince a jury? He has convinced me, +not because I am specially soft, or because I love the man,—for as +to that I dislike him rather than otherwise;—but because there is +either real truth in his words, or else so well-feigned a show of +truth that no jury can tell the difference. I think it is true. By +George, I think he did get the twenty pounds honestly, and that he +does not this moment know where he got it. He may have put his finger +into my eye; but, if so, why not also into the eyes of a jury?" Then +he released his leg, and spoke something of his thoughts aloud. "It's +a sad story," he said; "a very sad story."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, it's sad enough. If you could see my house, you'd say +so."</p> + +<p>"I haven't a doubt but what you're as innocent as I am." Mr Toogood, +as he said this, felt a little twinge of conscience. He did believe +Mr Crawley to be innocent, but he was not so sure of it as his words +would seem to imply. Nevertheless he repeated the words again;—"as +innocent as I am."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Mr Crawley. "I don't know. I think I am; but I +don't know."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are. But you see the case is a very distressing one. A +jury has a right to say that the man in possession of a cheque for +twenty pounds should account for his possession of it. If I +understand the story aright, Mr Soames will be able to prove that he +brought the cheque into your house, and, as far as he knows, never +took it out again."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so; all the same, if he brought it in, then did he also +take it out again."</p> + +<p>"I am saying what he will prove,—or, in other words, what he will +state upon oath. You can't contradict him. You can't get into the box +to do it,—even if that would be of any avail; and I am glad that you +cannot, as it would be of no avail. And you can put no one else into +the box who can do so."</p> + +<p>"No; no."</p> + +<p>"That is to say, we think you cannot do so. People can do so many +things that they don't think they can do; and can't do so many things +that they think that they can do! When will the dean be home?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Before the trial?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I have no idea."</p> + +<p>"It's almost a toss-up whether he'd do more harm or good if he were +there."</p> + +<p>"I wish he might be there if he has anything to say, whether it might +be for harm or good."</p> + +<p>"And Mrs Arabin;—she is with him?"</p> + +<p>"They tell me she is not. She is in Europe. He is in Palestine."</p> + +<p>"In Palestine, is he?"</p> + +<p>"So they tell me. A dean can go where he likes. He has no cure of +souls to stand in the way of his pleasures."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't,—hasn't he? I wish I were a dean; that is, if I were not +a lawyer. Might I write a line to the dean,—and to Mrs Dean if it +seemed fit? You wouldn't mind that? As you have come to see your +cousin at last,—and very glad I am that you have,—you must leave +him a little discretion. I won't say anything I oughtn't to say." Mr +Crawley opposed this scheme for some time, but at last consented to +the proposition. "And I'll tell you what, Mr Crawley; I am very fond +of cathedrals, I am indeed; and I have long wanted to see Barchester. +There's a very fine what-you-may-call-em; isn't there? Well; I'll +just run down at the assizes. We have nothing to do in London when +the judges are in the country,—of course." Mr Toogood looked into Mr +Crawley's eyes as he said this, to see if his iniquity were detected, +but the perpetual curate was altogether innocent in these matters. +"Yes; I'll just run down for a mouthful of fresh air. Of course I +shan't open my mouth in court. But I might say one word to the dean, +if he's there;—and one word to Mr Soames. Who is conducting the +prosecution?" Mr Crawley said that Mr Walker was doing so. "Walker, +Walker, Walker? oh,—yes; Walker and Winthrop, isn't it? A decent +sort of man, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I have heard nothing to his discredit, Mr Toogood."</p> + +<p>"And that's saying a great deal for a lawyer. Well, Mr Crawley, if +nothing else comes out between this and that,—nothing, that is, that +shall clear your memory about that unfortunate bit of paper, you must +simply tell your story to the jury as you've told it to me. I don't +think any twelve men in England would convict you;—I don't indeed."</p> + +<p>"You think they would not?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I've only heard one side, Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"No,—no,—no, that is true."</p> + +<p>"But judging as well as I can judge from one side, I don't think a +jury can convict you. At any rate I'll see you at Barchester, and +I'll write a line or two before the trial, just to find out anything +that can be found out. And you're sure you won't come and take a bit +of mutton with us in the Square? The girls would be delighted to see +you, and so would Maria." Mr Crawley said that he was quite sure he +could not do that, and then having tendered reiterated thanks to his +new friend in words which were touching in spite of their +old-fashioned gravity, he took his leave, and walked back again to +the public-house at Paddington.</p> + +<p>He returned home to Hogglestock on the same afternoon, reaching that +place at nine in the evening. During the whole of the day after +leaving Raymond's Buildings he was thinking of the lawyer, and of the +words which the lawyer had spoken. Although he had been disposed to +quarrel with Mr Toogood on many points, although he had been more +than once disgusted at the attorney's bad taste, shocked by his low +morality, and almost insulted by his easy familiarity, still, when +the interview was over, he liked the attorney. When first Mr Toogood +had begun to talk, he regretted very much that he had subjected +himself to the necessity of discussing his private affairs with such +a windbag of a man; but when he left the chamber he trusted Mr +Toogood altogether, and was very glad that he had sought his aid. He +was tired and exhausted when he reached home, as he had eaten nothing +but a biscuit or two since his breakfast; but his wife got him food +and tea, and then asked him as to his success. "Was my cousin kind to +you?"</p> + +<p>"Very kind,—more than kind,—perhaps somewhat too pressing in his +kindness. But I find no fault. God forbid that I should. He is, I +think, a good man, and certainly has been good to me."</p> + +<p>"And what is to be done?"</p> + +<p>"He will write to the dean."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that."</p> + +<p>"And he will be at Barchester."</p> + +<p>"Thank God for that."</p> + +<p>"But not as my lawyer."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, I thank God that some one will be there who will know +how to give you assistance and advice."</p> + + +<p><a name="c33" id="c33"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII</h3> +<h3>The Plumstead Foxes<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The letters had been brought into the breakfast-parlour at Plumstead +Rectory one morning, and the archdeacon had inspected them all, and +then thrown over to his wife her share of the spoil,—as was the +custom of the house. As to most of Mrs Grantly's letters, he never +made any further inquiry. To letters from her sister, the dean's +wife, he was profoundly indifferent, and rarely made any inquiry as +to those which were directed in writing with which he was not +familiar. But there were others as to which, as Mrs Grantly knew, he +would be sure to ask her questions if she did not show them. No note +ever reached her from Lady Harteltop as to which he was not curious, +and yet Lady Hartletop's notes very seldom contained much that was of +interest. Now, on this morning, there came a letter which, as a +matter of course, Mrs Grantly read at breakfast, and which, she knew, +would not be allowed to disappear without inquiry. Nor, indeed, did +she wish to keep the letter from her husband. It was too important to +be so treated. But she would have been glad to gain time to think in +what spirit she would discuss the contents of the letter,—if only +such time might be allowed to her. But the archdeacon would allow her +no time. "What does Henry say, my dear?" he asked, before the +breakfast things had been taken away.</p> + +<p>"What does he say? Well, he says—I'll give you his letter to read +by-and-by."</p> + +<p>"And why not now?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd read it again myself, first."</p> + +<p>"But if you have read it, I suppose you know what's in it?"</p> + +<p>"Not very clearly, as yet. However, there it is." She knew very well +that when she had once been asked for it, no peace would be allowed +to her till he had seen it. And, alas! there was not much probability +of peace in the house for some time after he should see it.</p> + +<p>The archdeacon read the three or four first lines in silence,—and +then he burst out. "He has, has he? Then, by +heavens<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Stop, dearest; stop," said his wife, rising from her chair and +coming over to him; "do not say words which you will surely repent."</p> + +<p>"I will say words which shall make him repent. He shall never have +from me a son's portion."</p> + +<p>"Do not make threats in anger. Do not! You know that it is wrong. If +he has offended you, say nothing about it,—even to yourself,—as to +threatened punishments, till you can judge of the offence in cool +blood."</p> + +<p>"I am cool," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; no; you are angry. And you have not even read his +letter through."</p> + +<p>"I will read his letter."</p> + +<p>"You will see that the marriage is not imminent. It may be that even +yet it will never take place. The young lady has refused him."</p> + +<p>"Psha!"</p> + +<p>"You will see that she has done so. He tells us so himself. And she +has behaved very properly."</p> + +<p>"Why has she refused him?"</p> + +<p>"There can be no doubt about the reason. She feels that, with this +charge hanging over her father, she is not in a position to become +the wife of any gentleman. You cannot but respect her for that."</p> + +<p>Then the archdeacon finished his son's letter, uttering sundry +interjections and ejaculations as he did so.</p> + +<p>"Of course; I knew it. I understood it all," he said at last. "I've +nothing to do with the girl. I don't care whether she be good or +bad."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"I care not at all,—with reference to my own concerns. Of course I +would wish that the daughter of a neighbouring clergyman,—that the +daughter of any neighbour,—that the daughter of any one +whatsoever,—should be good rather than bad. But as regards Henry and +me, and our mutual relation, her goodness can make no difference. Let +her be another Grizel, and still such a marriage must estrange him +from me, and me from him."</p> + +<p>"But she has refused him."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and what does he say?—that he has told her that he will not +accept her refusal. Of course we know what it all means. The girl I +am not judging. The girl I will not judge. But my own son, to whom I +have ever done a father's duty with a father's affectionate +indulgence,—him I will judge. I have warned him, and he declares +himself to be careless of my warning. I shall take no notice of this +letter. I shall neither write to him about it, or speak to him about +it. But I charge you to write to him, and tell him that if he does +this thing he shall not have a child's portion from me. It is not +that I will shorten that which would have been his; but he shall +have—nothing!" Then, having spoken these words with a solemnity +which for the moment silenced his wife, he got up and left the room. +He left the room and closed the door, but, before he had gone half +the length of the hall towards his own study, he returned and +addressed his wife again. "You understand my instructions, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"What instructions?"</p> + +<p>"That you write to Henry and tell him what I say."</p> + +<p>"I will speak again to you about it by-and-by."</p> + +<p>"I will speak no more about it,—not a word more. Let there be not a +word more said, but oblige me by doing as I ask you."</p> + +<p>Then he was again about to leave the room, but she stopped him. "Wait +a moment, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Why should I wait?"</p> + +<p>"That you may listen to me. Surely you will do that, when I ask you. +I will write to Henry, of course, if you bid me; and I will give him +your message, whatever it may be; but not to-day, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Why not to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Because the sun shall go down upon your wrath before I become its +messenger. If you choose to write to-day yourself, I cannot help it. +I cannot hinder you. If I am to write to him on your behalf I will +take my instructions from you to-morrow morning. When to-morrow +morning comes you will not be angry with me because of the delay."</p> + +<p>The archdeacon was by no means satisfied; but he knew his wife too +well, and himself too well, and the world too well, to insist on the +immediate gratification of his passion. Over his bosom's mistress he +did exercise a certain marital control,—which was, for instance, +quite sufficiently fixed to enable him to look down with thorough +contempt on such a one as Bishop Proudie; but he was not a despot who +could exact a passive obedience to every fantasy. His wife would not +have written the letter for him on that day, and he knew very well +that she would not do so. He knew also that she was right;—and yet +he regretted his want of power. His anger at the present moment was +very hot,—so hot that he wished to wreak it. He knew that it would +cool before the morrow;—and, no doubt, knew also theoretically, that +it would be most fitting that it should be cool. But not the less was +it a matter of regret to him that so much good hot anger should be +wasted, and that he could not have his will of his disobedient son +while it lasted. He might, no doubt, have written himself, but to +have done so would not have suited him. Even in his anger he could +not have written to his son without using the ordinary terms of +affection, and in his anger he could not bring himself to use those +terms. "You will find that I shall be of the same mind +to-morrow,—exactly," he said to his wife. "I have resolved about it +long since; and it is not likely that I shall change in a day." Then +he went out, about his parish, intending to continue to think of his +son's iniquity, so that he might keep his anger hot,—red hot. Then +he remembered that the evening would come, and that he would say his +prayers; and he shook his head in regret,—in a regret of which he +was only half conscious, though it was very keen, and which he did +not attempt to analyse,—as he reflected that his rage would hardly +be able to survive that ordeal. How common with us it is to repine +that the devil is not stronger over us than he is.</p> + +<p>The archdeacon, who was a very wealthy man, had purchased a property +at Plumstead, contiguous to the glebe-land, and had thus come to +exercise in the parish the double duty of rector and squire. And of +this estate in Barsetshire, which extended beyond the confines of +Plumstead into the neighbouring parish of Eiderdown, and which +comprised also an outlying farm in the parish of Stogpingum,—Stoke +Pinguium would have been the proper name had not barbarous Saxon +tongues clipped it of its proper proportions,—he had always intended +that his son Henry should enjoy the inheritance. There was other +property, both in land and in money, for his elder son, and other +again for the maintenance of his wife, for the archdeacon's father +had been for many years Bishop of Barchester, and such a bishopric as +that of Barchester had been in those days worth money. Of his +intention in this respect he had never spoken in plain language to +either of his sons; but the major had for the last year or two +enjoyed the shooting of the Barsetshire covers, giving what orders he +pleased about the game; and the father had encouraged him to take +something like the management of the property into his hands. There +might be some fifteen hundred acres of it altogether, and the +archdeacon had rejoiced over it with his wife scores of times, saying +that there was many a squire in the county whose elder son would +never find himself so well placed as would his own younger son. Now +there was a string of narrow woods called Plumstead Coppices which +ran from a point near the church right across the parish, dividing +the archdeacon's land from the Ullathorne estate, and these coppices, +or belts of woodland, belonged to the archdeacon. On the morning of +which we are speaking, the archdeacon, mounted on his cob, still +thinking of his son's iniquity and of his own fixed resolve to punish +him as he had said that he would punish him, opened with his whip a +woodland gate, from which a green muddy lane led through the trees up +to the house of his gamekeeper. The man's wife was ill, and in his +ordinary way of business the archdeacon was about to call and ask +after her health. At the door of the cottage he found the man, who +was woodman as well as gamekeeper, and was responsible for fences and +fagots, as well as for foxes and pheasants' eggs.</p> + +<p>"How's Martha, Flurry?" said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Thanking your reverence, she be a deal improved since the mistress +was here,—last Tuesday it was, I think."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of that. It was only rheumatism, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Just a tich of fever with it, your reverence, the doctor said,"</p> + +<p>"Tell her I was asking after it. I won't mind getting down to-day, as +I am rather busy. She has had what she wanted from the house?"</p> + +<p>"The mistress has been very good in that way. She always is, God +bless her!"</p> + +<p>"Good-day to you, Flurry. I'll ask Mr Sims to come and read to her a +bit this afternoon, or to-morrow morning." The archdeacon kept two +curates, and Mr Sims was one of them.</p> + +<p>"She'll take it very kindly, your reverence. But while you are here, +sir, there's just a word I'd like to say. I didn't happen to catch Mr +Henry when he was here the other day."</p> + +<p>"Never mind Mr Henry; what is it you have to say?"</p> + +<p>"I do think, I do indeed, sir, that Mr Thorne's man ain't dealing +fairly along of the foxes. I wouldn't say a word about it, only that +Mr Henry is so particular."</p> + +<p>"What about the foxes? What is he doing with the foxes?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, he's a trapping on 'em. He is, indeed, your reverence. I +wouldn't speak if I warn't well nigh mortal sure."</p> + +<p>Now the archdeacon had never been a hunting man, though in his early +days many a clergyman had been in the habit of hunting without losing +his clerical character by doing so; but he had lived all his life +among gentlemen in a hunting county, and had his own very strong +ideas about the trapping of foxes. Foxes first, and pheasants +afterwards, had always been the rule with him as to any land of which +he himself had had the management. And no man understood better than +he did how to deal with keepers as to this matter of fox-preserving, +or knew better that keepers will in truth obey not the words of their +employers, but their sympathies. "Wish them to have foxes, and pay +them, and they will have them," Mr Sowerby of Chaldicotes used to +say, and he in his day was reckoned to be the best preserver of foxes +in Barsetshire. "Tell them to have them, and don't wish it, and pay +them well, and you won't have a fox to interfere with your game. I +don't care what a man says to me, I can read it all like a book when +I see his covers drawn." That was what poor Mr Sowerby of Chaldicotes +used to say, and the archdeacon had heard him say it a score of +times, and had learned the lesson. But now his heart was not with the +foxes,—and especially not with the foxes on behalf of his son Henry. +"I can't have any meddling with Mr Thorne," he said; "I can't; and I +won't."</p> + +<p>"But I don't suppose it can be Mr Thorne's order, your reverence; and +Mr Henry is so particular."</p> + +<p>"Of course it isn't Mr Thorne's order. Mr Thorne has been a hunting +man all his life."</p> + +<p>"But he have guv' up now, your reverence. He ain't a hunted these two +years."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he wouldn't have the foxes trapped."</p> + +<p>"Not if he knowed it, he wouldn't, your reverence. A gentleman of the +likes of him, who's been a hunting over fifty year, wouldn't do the +likes of that; but the foxes is trapped, and Mr Henry'll be a putting +it on me if I don't speak out. They is Plumstead foxes, too; and a +vixen was trapped just across the field yonder, in Goshall Springs, +no later than yesterday morning." Flurry was now thoroughly in +earnest; and, indeed, the trapping of a vixen in February is a +serious thing.</p> + +<p>"Goshall Springs don't belong to me," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"No, your reverence; they're on the Ullathorne property. But a word +from your reverence would do it. Mr Henry thinks more of the foxes +than anything. The last word he told me was that it would break his +heart if he saw the coppices drawn blank."</p> + +<p>"Then he must break his heart." The words were pronounced, but the +archdeacon had so much command over himself as to speak them in such +a voice that the man should not hear them. But it was incumbent on +him to say something that the man should hear. "I will have no +meddling in the matter, Flurry. Whether there are foxes or whether +there are not, is a matter of no great moment. I will not have a word +said to annoy Mr Thorne." Then he rode away, back through the wood +and out on to the road, and the horse walked with him leisurely on, +whither the archdeacon hardly knew,—for he was thinking, thinking, +thinking. "Well;—if that ain't the darn'dest thing that ever was," +said Flurry; "but I'll tell the squire about Thorne's man,—darned if +I don't." now, "the squire" was young Squire Gresham, the master of +the East Barsetshire hounds.</p> + +<p>But the archdeacon went on thinking, thinking, thinking. He could +have heard nothing of his son to stir him more in his favour than +this strong evidence of his partiality for foxes. I do not mean it to +be understood that the archdeacon regarded foxes as better than +active charity, or a contented mind, or a meek spirit, or than +self-denying temperance. No doubt all these virtues did hold in his +mind their proper places, altogether beyond contamination of foxes. +But he had prided himself on thinking that his son should be a +country gentleman, and probably nothing doubting as to the major's +active charity and other virtues, was delighted to receive evidence +of those tastes which he had ever wished to encourage in his son's +character. Or rather, such evidence would have delighted him at any +other time than the present. Now it only added more gall to his cup. +"Why should he teach himself to care for such things, when he has not +the spirit to enjoy them," said the archdeacon to himself. "He is a +fool,—a fool. A man that has been married once, to go crazy after a +little girl, that has hardly a dress to her back, and who never was +in a drawing-room in her life! Charles is the eldest, and he shall be +the eldest. It will be better to keep it together. It is the way in +which the country has become what it is." He was out nearly all day, +and did not see his wife till dinner-time. Her father, Mr Harding, +was still with them, but had breakfasted in his own room. Not a word, +therefore, was said about Henry Grantly between the father and mother +on that evening.</p> + +<p>Mrs Grantly was determined that, unless provoked, she would say +nothing to him till the following morning. He should sleep upon his +wrath before she spoke to him again. And he was equally unwilling to +recur to the subject. Had she permitted it, the next morning would +have passed away, and no word would have been spoken. But this would +not have suited her. She had his orders to write, and she had +undertaken to obey these orders,—with the delay of one day. Were she +not to write at all,—or in writing to send no message from the +father, there would be cause for further anger. And yet this, I +think, was what the archdeacon wished.</p> + +<p>"Archdeacon," she said, "I shall write to Henry to-day."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>"And what am I to say from you?"</p> + +<p>"I told you yesterday what are my intentions."</p> + +<p>"I am not asking about that now. We hope there will be years and +years to come, in which you may change them, and shape them as you +will. What shall I tell him now from you?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to say to him,—nothing; not a word. He knows what he +has to expect from me, for I have told him. He is acting with his +eyes open, and so am I. If he marries Miss Crawley, he must live on +his own means. I told him that myself so plainly, that he can want no +further intimation." Then Mrs Grantly knew that she was absolved from +the burden of yesterday's message, and she plumed herself on the +prudence of her conduct. On the same morning the archdeacon wrote the +following note:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Thorne</span>,—</p> + +<p>My man tells me that foxes have been trapped on Darvell's +farm, just outside the coppices. I know nothing of it +myself, but I am sure you'll look to it.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours always,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">T. Grantly</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a name="c34" id="c34"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIV</h3> +<h3>Mrs Proudie Sends for Her Lawyer<br /> </h3> + + +<p>There was great dismay in Barchester Palace after the visit paid to +the bishop and Mrs Proudie by that terrible clerical offender, Mr +Crawley. It will be remembered, perhaps, how he had defied the bishop +with spoken words, and how he had defied the bishop's wife by +speaking no words to her. For the moment, no doubt, Mr Crawley had +the best of it. Mrs Proudie acknowledged to herself that this was the +case; but as she was a woman who had never yet succumbed to an enemy, +who had never,—if on such an occasion I may be allowed to use a +schoolboy's slang,—taken a licking from any one, it was not likely +that Mr Crawley would be long allowed to enjoy his triumph in peace. +It would be odd if all the weight of the palace would not be able to +silence a wretch of a perpetual curate who had already been committed +to take his trial for thieving;—and Mrs Proudie was determined that +all the weight of the palace should be used. As for the bishop, +though he was not as angry as his wife, he was quite unhappy, and +therefore quite as hostile to Mr Crawley; and was fully conscious +that there could be no peace for him now until Mr Crawley should be +crushed. If only the assizes would come at once, and get him +condemned out of the way, what a blessed thing it would be! But +unluckily it still wanted three months to the assizes, and during +those three months Mr Crawley would be at large and subject only to +episcopal authority. During that time he could not be silenced by the +arm of the civil law. His wife was not long in expressing her opinion +after Mr Crawley had left the palace. "You must proceed against him +in the Court of Arches,—and that at once," said Mrs Proudie. "You +can do that, of course? I know that it will be expensive. Of course +it will be expensive. I suppose it may cost us some hundreds of +pounds; but duty is duty, my lord, and in such a case as this your +duty as a bishop is paramount."</p> + +<p>The poor bishop knew that it was useless to explain to her the +various mistakes which she made,—which she was ever making,—as to +the extent of his powers and the modes of procedure which were open +to him. When he would do so she would only rail at him for being +lukewarm in his office, poor in spirit, and afraid of dealing roundly +with those below him. On the present occasion he did say a word, but +she would not even hear him to the end. "Don't tell me about rural +deans, as if I didn't know. The rural dean has nothing to do with +such a case. The man has been committed for trial. Send for Mr +Chadwick at once, and let steps be taken before you are an hour +older."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, Mr Chadwick can do nothing."</p> + +<p>"Then I will see Mr Chadwick." And in her anger she did sit down and +write a note to Mr Chadwick, begging him to come over to her at the +palace.</p> + +<p>Mr Chadwick was a lawyer, living in Barchester, who earned his bread +from ecclesiastical business. His father, and his uncle, and his +grandfather and granduncles, had all been concerned in the affairs of +the diocese of Barchester. His uncle had been bailiff to the +episcopal estates, or steward as he had been called, in Bishop +Grantly's time, and still contrived to draw his income in some shape +from the property of the see. The nephew had also been the legal +assistant of the bishop in his latter days, and had been continued in +that position by Bishop Proudie, not from love, but from expediency. +Mr John Chadwick was one of those gentlemen, two or three of whom are +to be seen in connexion with every see,—who seem to be +hybrids,—half-lay, half-cleric. They dress like clergymen, and +affect that mixture of clerical solemnity and clerical waggishness +which is generally to be found among minor canons and vicar chorals +of a cathedral. They live, or at least have their offices, half in +the Close and half out of it,—dwelling as it were just on the +borders of holy orders. They always wear white neck-handkerchiefs and +black gloves; and would be altogether clerical in their appearance, +were it not that as regards the outward man they impinge somewhat on +the characteristics of the undertaker. They savour of the church, but +the savour is of the church's exterior. Any stranger thrown into +chance contact with one of them would, from instinct, begin to talk +about things ecclesiastical without any reference to things +theological or things religious. They are always most worthy men, +much respected in the society of the Close, and I never heard of one +of them whose wife was not comfortable or whose children were left +without provision.</p> + +<p>Such a one was Mr John Chadwick, and as it was a portion of his +duties to accompany the bishop to consecrations and ordinations, he +knew Dr Proudie very well. Having been brought up, as it were, under +the very wing of Bishop Grantly, it could not well be that he should +love Bishop Grantly's successor. The old bishop and the new bishop +had been so different that no man could like, or even esteem, them +both. But Mr Chadwick was a prudent man, who knew well the source +from which he earned his bread, and he had never quarrelled with +Bishop Proudie. He knew Mrs Proudie also,—of necessity,—and when I +say of him that he had hitherto avoided any open quarrel with her, it +will I think be allowed that he was a man of prudence and sagacity.</p> + +<p>But he had sometimes been sorely tried, and he felt when he got her +note that he was now about to encounter a very sore trial. He +muttered something which might have been taken for an oath, were it +not that the outwards signs of the man gave warranty that no oath +could proceed from such a one. Then he wrote a short note presenting +his compliments to Mrs Proudie, and saying that he would call at the +palace at eleven o'clock on the following morning.</p> + +<p>But, in the meantime, Mrs Proudie, who could not be silent on the +subject for a moment, did learn something of the truth from her +husband. The information did not come to her in the way of +instruction, but was teased out of the unfortunate man. "I know that +you can proceed against him in the Court of Arches, under the 'Church +Discipline Act'," she said.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; no," said the bishop, shaking his head in his misery.</p> + +<p>"Or in the Consistorial Court. It's all the same thing."</p> + +<p>"There must be an inquiry first,—by his brother clergy. There must +indeed. It's the only way of proceeding."</p> + +<p>"But there has been an inquiry, and he has been committed."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't signify, my dear. That's the Civil Law."</p> + +<p>"And if the Civil Law condemns him, and locks him up in prison,—as +it most certainly will do?"</p> + +<p>"But it hasn't done so yet, my dear. I really think that as it has +gone so far, it will be best to leave it as it is till he has taken +his trial."</p> + +<p>"What! Leave him there after what has occurred this morning in this +palace?" The palace with Mrs Proudie was always a palace, and never a +house. "No; no; ten thousand times, no. Are you not aware that he +insulted you, and grossly, most grossly insulted me? I was never +treated with such insolence by any clergyman before, since I first +came to this palace;—never, never. And we know the man to be a +thief;—we absolutely know it. Think, my lord, of the souls of his +people!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear; oh, dear; oh, dear," said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"Why do you fret yourself in that way?"</p> + +<p>"Because you will get me into trouble. I tell you the only thing to +be done is to issue a commission with the rural dean at the head of +it."</p> + +<p>"Then issue a commission."</p> + +<p>"And they will take three months."</p> + +<p>"Why should they take three months? Why should they take more than +three days,—or three hours? It is all plain sailing."</p> + +<p>"These things are never plain sailing, my dear. When a bishop has to +oppose any of his clergy, it is always made as difficult as +possible."</p> + +<p>"More shame for them who make it so."</p> + +<p>"But it is so. If I were to take legal proceedings against him, it +would cost,—oh, dear,—more than a thousand pounds, I should say."</p> + +<p>"If it costs two, you must do it." Mrs Proudie's anger was still very +hot, or she would not have spoken of an unremunerative outlay of +money in such language as that.</p> + +<p>In this manner she did come to understand, before the arrival of Mr +Chadwick, that her husband could take no legal steps towards +silencing Mr Crawley until a commission of clergymen had been +appointed to inquire into the matter, and that that commission should +be headed by the rural dean within the limits of whose rural deanery +the parish of Hogglestock was situated, or by some beneficed +parochial clergyman of repute in the neighbourhood. Now the rural +dean was Dr Tempest of Silverbridge,—who had held that position +before the coming of Dr Proudie to the diocese; and there had grown +up in the bosom of Mrs Proudie a strong feeling that undue mercy had +been shown to Mr Crawley by the magistrates of Silverbridge, of whom +Dr Tempest had been one. "These magistrates had taken bail for his +appearance at the assizes, instead of committing him to prison at +once,—as they were bound to do, when such an offence as that had +been committed by a clergyman. But, no;—even though there was a +clergymen among them, they had thought nothing of the souls of the +poor people!" In such language Mrs Proudie had spoken of the affair +at Silverbridge, and having once committed herself to such an +opinion, of course she thought that Dr Tempest would go through fire +and water,—would omit no stretch of what little judicial power might +be committed to his hands,—with the view of opposing his bishop, and +maintaining the culprit in his position. "In such a case as this, can +not you name an acting rural dean yourself? Dr Tempest, you know, is +very old." "No, my dear; no; I cannot." "You can ask Mr Chadwick, at +any rate, and then you could name Mr Thumble." "But Mr Thumble +doesn't even hold a living in the diocese. Oh, dear; oh, dear; oh, +dear!" And so the matter rested until Mr Chadwick came.</p> + +<p>Mrs Proudie had no doubt intended to have Mr Chadwick all to +herself,—at any rate so to encounter him in the first instance. But +having been at length convinced that the inquiry by the rural dean +was really necessary as a preliminary, and having also slept upon the +question of expenditure, she gave directions that the lawyer should +be shown into the bishop's study, and she took care to be absent at +the moment of his arrival. Of course she did not intend that Mr +Chadwick should leave the palace without having heard what she had to +say, but she thought that it would be well that he should be made to +conceive that though the summons had been written by her, it had +really been intended on the part of the bishop. "Mr Chadwick will be +with you at eleven, bishop," she said, as she got up from the +breakfast-table, at which she left his lordship with two of his +daughters and with a married son-in-law, a clergyman who was staying +in the house. "Very well, my dear," said the bishop, with a +smile,—for he was anxious not to betray any vexation at his wife's +interference before his daughters or the Rev Mr Tickler. But he +understood it all. Mr Chadwick had been sent for with reference to Mr +Crawley, and he was driven,—absolutely driven, to propose to his +lawyer that this commission of inquiry should be issued.</p> + +<p>Punctually at eleven Mr Chadwick came, wearing a very long face as he +entered the palace door,—for he felt that he would in all +probability be now compelled to quarrel with Mrs Proudie. Much he +could bear, but there was a limit to his endurance. She had never +absolutely sent for him before, though she had often interfered with +him. "I shall have to tell her a bit of my mind," he said, as he +stepped across the Close, habited in his best suit of black, with +most exact white cravat, and yet looking not quite like a +clergyman,—with some touch of the undertaker in his gait. When he +found that he was shown into the bishop's room, and that the bishop +was there,—and the bishop only,—his mind was relieved. It would +have been better that the bishop should have written himself, or that +the chaplain should have written in his lordship's name; that, +however, was a trifle.</p> + +<p>But the bishop did not know what to say to him. If he intended to +direct an inquiry to be made by the rural dean, it would be by no +means becoming that he should consult Mr Chadwick as to doing so. It +might be well, or if not well at any rate not improper, that he +should make the application to Dr Tempest through Mr Chadwick; but in +that case he must give the order at once, and he still wished to +avoid it if it were possible. Since he had been in the diocese no +case so grave as this had been pushed upon him. The intervention of +the rural dean in an ordinary way he had used,—had been made to +use,—more than once, by his wife. A vicar had been absent a little +too long from one parish, and there had been rumours about +brandy-and-water in another. Once he had been very nearly in deep +water because Mrs Proudie had taken it in dudgeon that a certain +young rector, who had been left a widower, had a pretty governess for +his children; and there had been that case, sadly notorious in the +diocese at the time, of our excellent friend Mr Robarts of Framley, +when the bailiffs were in his house because he couldn't pay his +debts,—or rather, the debts of his friend for whom he had signed +bills. But in all these cases some good fortune had intervened, and +he had been saved from the terrible necessity of any ulterior +process. But now,—now he was being driven beyond himself, and all to +no purpose. If Mrs Proudie would only wait three months the civil law +would do it all for him. But here was Mr Chadwick in the room, and he +knew that it would be useless for him to attempt to talk to Mr +Chadwich about other matters, and so dismiss him. The wife of his +bosom would be down upon them before Chadwick could be out of the +room.</p> + +<p>"H—m—ha. How d'ye do, Mr Chadwick—won't you sit down?" Mr Chadwick +thanked his lordship, and sat down. "It's very cold, isn't it, Mr +Chadwick?"</p> + +<p>"A hard frost, my lord, but a beautiful day."</p> + +<p>"Won't you come near the fire?" The bishop knew that Mrs Proudie was +on the road, and had an eye to the proper strategical position of his +forces. Mrs Proudie would certainly take up her position in a certain +chair from whence the light enabled her to rake her husband +thoroughly. What advantage she might have from this he could not +prevent;—but he could so place Mr Chadwick, that the lawyer should +be more within reach of his eye than that of his wife. So the bishop +pointed to an arm-chair opposite to himself and near the fire, and Mr +Chadwick seated himself accordingly.</p> + +<p>"This is a very sad affair about Mr Crawley," said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"Very said indeed," said the lawyer. "I never pitied a man so much in +my life, my lord."</p> + +<p>This was not exactly the line which the bishop was desirous of +taking. "Of course he is to be pitied;—of course he is. But from all +I hear, Mr Chadwick, I am afraid,—I am afraid we must not acquit +him."</p> + +<p>"As to that, my lord, he has to stand his trial, of course."</p> + +<p>"But, you see, Mr Chadwick, regarding him as a beneficed +clergyman,—with a cure of souls,—the question is whether I should +be justified in leaving him where he is till his trial shall come +on."</p> + +<p>"Of course your lordship knows best about that, +but<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I know there is a difficulty. I know that. But I am inclined to +think that in the interests of the parish I am bound to issue a +commission of inquiry."</p> + +<p>"I believe your lordship has attempted to silence him, and that he +has refused to comply."</p> + +<p>"I thought it better for everybody's sake,—especially for his own, +that he should for a while be relieved from his duties; but he is an +obstinate man, a very obstinate man. I made the attempt with all +consideration for his feelings."</p> + +<p>"He is hard put to it, my lord. I know the man and his pride. The +dean has spoken of him to me more than once, and nobody knows him so +well as the dean. If I might venture to offer an +opinion<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Good morning, Mr Chadwick," said Mrs Proudie, coming into the room +and taking her accustomed seat. "No thank you, no; I will stay away +from the fire, if you please. His lordship has spoken to you no doubt +about this unfortunate, wretched man?"</p> + +<p>"We are speaking of him now, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Something must of course be done to put a stop to the crying +disgrace of having such a man preaching from a pulpit in this +diocese. When I think of the souls of the people in that poor +village, my hair literally stands on end. And then he is +disobedient!"</p> + +<p>"That is the worst of it," said the bishop. "It would have been so +much better for himself if he would have allowed me to provide +quietly for the services till the trial be over."</p> + +<p>"I could have told you, my lord, that he would not do that, from what +I knew of him," said Mr Chadwick.</p> + +<p>"But he must do it," said Mrs Proudie. "He must be made to do it."</p> + +<p>"His lordship will find it difficult," said Mr Chadwick.</p> + +<p>"I can issue a commission, you know, to the rural dean," said the +bishop mildly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can do that. And Dr Tempest in two months' time will have +named his assessors<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Dr Tempest must not name them; the bishop must name them," said Mrs +Proudie.</p> + +<p>"It is customary to leave that to the rural dean," said Mr Chadwick. +"The bishop no doubt can object to any one named."</p> + +<p>"And can specially select any clergyman he pleases from the +archdeaconry," said the bishop. "I have known it done."</p> + +<p>"The rural dean in such case has probably been an old man, and not +active," said the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"And Dr Tempest is a very old man," said Mrs Proudie, "and in such a +matter not at all trustworthy. He was one of the magistrates who took +bail."</p> + +<p>"His lordship could hardly set him aside," said the lawyer. "At any +rate I would not recommend him to try. I think you might suggest a +commission of five, and propose two of the number yourself. I do not +think that in such a case Dr Tempest would raise any question."</p> + +<p>At last it was settled in this way. Mr Chadwick was to prepare a +letter to Dr Tempest, for the bishop's signature, in which the doctor +should be requested, as the rural dean to whom Mr Crawley was +subject, to hold a commission of five to inquire into Mr Crawley's +conduct. The letter was to explain to Dr Tempest that the bishop, +moved by his solicitude for the souls of the people of Hogglestock, +had endeavoured, "in a friendly way", to induce Mr Crawley to desist +from his ministrations; but that having failed through Mr Crawley's +obstinacy, he had no alternative but to proceed in this way. "You had +better say that his lordship, as bishop of the diocese, can take no +heed of the coming trial," said Mrs Proudie. "I think his lordship +had better say nothing at all about the trial," said Mr Chadwick. "I +think that will be best," said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"But if they report against him," said Mr Chadwick, "you can only +then proceed in the ecclesiastical court,—at your own expense."</p> + +<p>"He'll hardly be so obstinate as that," said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you don't know him, my lord," said the lawyer. The +bishop, thinking of the scene which had taken place in that very room +only yesterday, felt that he did know Mr Crawley, and felt also that +the hope which he had just expressed was one in which he himself put +no trust. But something might turn up; and it was devoutly to be +hoped that Dr Tempest would take a long time over his inquiry. The +assizes might come on as soon as it was terminated, or very shortly +afterwards; and then everything might be well. "You won't find Dr +Tempest very ready at it," said Mr Chadwick. The bishop in his heart +was comforted by the words. "But he must be made to be ready to do +his duty," said Mrs Proudie, imperiously. Mr Chadwick shrugged his +shoulders, then got up, spoke his farewell little speeches, and left +the palace.</p> + + +<p><a name="c35" id="c35"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXV</h3> +<h3>Lily Dale Writes Two Words in Her Book<br /> </h3> + + +<p>John Eames saw nothing more of Lily Dale till he packed up his +portmanteau, left his mother's house, and went to stay for a few days +with his old friend Lady Julia; and this did not happen till he had +been above a week at Guestwick. Mrs Dale repeatedly said that it was +odd that Johnny did not come to see them; and Grace, speaking of him +to Lily, asked why he did not come. Lily, in her funny way, declared +that he would come soon enough. But even while she was joking there +was something of half-expressed consciousness in her words,—as +though she felt it to be foolish to speak of his coming as she might +of that of any other young man, before people who knew her whole +story. "He'll come quick enough. He knows, and I know, that his +coming will do no good. Of course I shall be glad to see him. Why +shouldn't I be glad to see him? I've known him and liked him all my +life. I liked him when there did not seem to be much about him to +like, and now that he is clever, and agreeable, and +good-looking,—which he never was as a lad,—why shouldn't I go on +liking him? He's more like a brother to me than anybody else I've +got. James,"—James was her brother-in-law, Dr Crofts,—"thinks of +nothing but his patients and his babies, and my cousin Bernard is +much too grand a person for me to take the liberty of loving him. I +shall be very glad to see Johnny Eames." From all which Mrs Dale was +led to believe that Johnny's case was still hopeless. And how should +it not be hopeless? Had Lily not confessed within the last week or +two that she still loved Adolphus Crosbie?</p> + +<p>Mrs Eames also, and Mary, were surprised that John did not go over to +Allington. "You haven't seen Mrs Dale yet, or the squire?" said his +mother.</p> + +<p>"I shall see them when I am at the cottage."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—no doubt. But it seems strange that you should be here so long +without going to them."</p> + +<p>"There's time enough," said he. "I shall have nothing else to do when +I'm at the cottage." Then, when Mary had spoken to him again in +private, expressing a hope that there was "nothing wrong", he had +been very angry with his sister. "What do you mean by wrong? What +rubbish you girls talk! and you never have any delicacy of feeling to +make you silent."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, don't say such hard things as that of me!"</p> + +<p>"But I do say them. You'll make me swear among you some day that I +will never see Lily Dale again. As it is, I wish I never had seen +her,—simply because I am so dunned about it." In all of which I +think that Johnny was manifestly wrong. When the humour was on him he +was fond enough of talking about Lily Dale. Had he not taught her to +do so, I doubt whether his sister would ever have mentioned Lily's +name to him. "I did not mean to dun you, John," said Mary, meekly.</p> + +<p>But at last he went to Lady Julia's, and was no sooner there than he +was ready to start for Allington. When Lady Julia spoke to him about +Lily, he did not venture to snub her. Indeed, of all his friends, +Lady Julia was the one with whom on this subject he allowed himself +the most unrestricted confidence. He came over one day, just before +dinner, and declared his intention of walking over to Allington +immediately after breakfast on the following morning. "It's the last +time, Lady Julia," he said.</p> + +<p>"So you say, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"And so I mean it! What's the good of a man frittering away his life? +What's the good of wishing for what you can't get?"</p> + +<p>"Jacob was not in such a hurry when he wished for Rachel."</p> + +<p>"That was all very well for an old patriarch who had seven or eight +hundred years to live."</p> + +<p>"My dear John, you forget your Bible. Jacob did not live half as long +as that."</p> + +<p>"He lived long enough, and slowly enough, to be able to wait fourteen +years;—and then he had something to comfort him in the meantime. And +after all, Lady Julia, it's more than seven years since I first +thought Lily was the prettiest girl I ever saw."</p> + +<p>"How old are you now?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-seven—and she's twenty-four."</p> + +<p>"You've time enough yet, if you'll only be patient."</p> + +<p>"I'll be patient for to-morrow, Lady Julia, but never again. Not that +I mean to quarrel with her. I'm not such a fool as to quarrel with a +girl because she can't like me. I know how it all is. If that +scoundrel had not come across my path just when he did,—in that very +nick of time, all might have been right betwixt her and me. I +couldn't have offered to marry her before, when I hadn't as much +income as would have found her in bread-and-butter. And then, just as +better times came to me, he stepped in! I wonder whether it will be +expected of me that I should forgive him?"</p> + +<p>"As far as that goes, you have no right to be angry with him."</p> + +<p>"But I am,—all the same."</p> + +<p>"And so was I,—but not for stepping in, as you call it."</p> + +<p>"You and I are different, Lady Julia. I was angry with him for +stepping in; but I couldn't show it. Then he stepped out, and I did +manage to show it. And now I shouldn't wonder if he doesn't step in +again. After all, why should he have such a power? It was simply the +nick of time which gave it to him." That John Eames should be able to +find some consolation in this consideration is devoutly to be hoped +by us all.</p> + +<p>There was nothing said about Lily Dale the next morning at breakfast. +Lady Julia observed that John was dressed a little more neatly than +usual;—though the change was not such as to have called for her +special observation, had she not known the business on which he was +intent.</p> + +<p>"You have nothing to send to the Dales?" he said, as he got up from +the table.</p> + +<p>"Nothing but my love, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"No worsted or embroidery work,—or a pot of special jam for the +squire?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, nothing; though I should like to make you carry a pair of +panniers, if I could."</p> + +<p>"They would become me well," said Johnny, "for I am going on an ass's +errand." Then, without waiting for the word of affection which was on +the old woman's lips, he got himself out of the room, and started on +his journey.</p> + +<p>The walk was only three miles and the weather was dry and frosty, and +he had come to the turn leading up to the church and the squire's +house almost before he remembered that he was near Allington. Here he +paused for a moment to think. If he continued his way down by the +"Red Lion" and through Allington Street, he must knock at Mrs Dale's +door, and ask for admission by means of the servant,—as would be +done by any ordinary visitor. But he could make his way on to the +lawn by going up beyond the wall of the churchyard and through the +squire's garden. He knew the path well,—very well; and he thought +that he might take so much liberty as that, both with the squire and +Mrs Dale, although his visits to Allington were not so frequent now +as they used to be in the days of his boyhood. He did not wish to be +admitted by the servant, and therefore he went through the gardens. +Luckily he did not see the squire, who would have detained him, and +he escaped from Hopkins, the old gardener, with little more than a +word. "I'm going down to see the ladies, Hopkins; I suppose I shall +find them?" And then, while Hopkins was arranging his spade so that +he might lean upon it for a little chat, Johnny was gone and had made +his way into the other garden. He had thought it possible that he +might meet Lily out among the walks by herself, and such a meeting as +this would have suited him better than any other. And as he crossed +the little bridge which separated the gardens he thought of more than +one such meeting,—of one especial occasion on which he had first +ventured to tell her in plain words that he loved her. But before +that day Crosbie had come there, and at the moment in which he was +speaking of his love she regarded Crosbie as an angel of light upon +the earth. What hope could there have been for him then? What use was +there in telling such a tale of love at that time? When he told it, +he knew that Crosbie had been before him. He knew that Crosbie was at +that moment the angel of light. But as he had never before been able +to speak of his love, so was he then unable not to speak of it. He +had spoken, and of course had been simply rebuked. Since that day +Crosbie had ceased to be an angel of light, and he, John Eames, had +spoken often. But he had spoken in vain, and now he would speak once +again.</p> + +<p>He went through the garden and over the lawn belonging to the Small +House and saw no one. He forgot, I think, that ladies do not come out +to pick roses when the ground is frozen, and that croquet is not +often in progress with the hoar-frost on the grass. So he walked up +to the little terrace before the drawing-room, and looking in saw Mrs +Dale, and Lily, and Grace at their morning work. Lily was drawing, +and Mrs Dale was writing, and Grace had her needle in her hand. As it +happened, no one at first perceived him, and he had time to feel that +after all he would have managed better if he had been announced in +the usual way. As, however, it was now necessary that he should +announce himself, he knocked at the window, and they all immediately +looked up and saw him. "It's my cousin John," said Grace. "Oh, +Johnny, how are you at last?" said Mrs Dale. But it was Lily who, +without speaking, opened the window for him, who was the first to +give him her hand, and who led him through into the room.</p> + +<p>"It's a great shame my coming in this way," said John, "and letting +all the cold air in upon you."</p> + +<p>"We shall survive it," said Mrs Dale. "I suppose you have just come +down from my brother-in-law?"</p> + +<p>"No; I have not seen the squire as yet. I will do so before I go +back, of course. But it seemed such a commonplace sort of thing to go +round by the village."</p> + +<p>"We are very glad to see you, by whatever way you came;—are we not, +mamma?" said Lily.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that. We were only saying yesterday that as you +had been in the country a fortnight without coming to us, we did not +think we would be at home when you did come."</p> + +<p>"But I have caught you, you see," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>And so they went on, chatting of old times and of mutual friends very +comfortably for full an hour. And there was some serious conversation +about Grace's father and his affairs, and John declared his opinion +that Mr Crawley ought to go to his uncle, Thomas Toogood, not at all +knowing that at that time Mr Crawley himself had come to the same +opinion. And John gave them an elaborate description of Sir Raffle +Buffle, standing up with his back to the fire with his hat on his +head, and speaking with a loud harsh voice, to show them the way in +which he declared that that gentleman received his inferiors; and +then bowing and scraping and rubbing his hands together and simpering +with would-be softness,—declaring that after that fashion Sir Raffle +received his superiors. And they were very merry,—so that no one +would have thought that Johnny was a despondent lover, now bent on +throwing the dice for his last stake; or that Lily was aware that she +was in the presence of one lover, and that she was like to fall to +the ground between two stools,—having two lovers, neither of whom +could serve her turn.</p> + +<p>"How can you consent to serve him if he's such a man as that?" said +Lily, speaking of Sir Raffle.</p> + +<p>"I do not serve him. I serve the Queen,—or rather the public. I +don't take his wages, and he does not play his tricks with me. He +knows that he can't. He has tried it, and has failed. And he only +keeps me where I am because I've had some money left me. He thinks it +fine to have a private secretary with a fortune. I know that he tells +people all manner of lies about it, making it out to be five times as +much as it is. Dear old Huffle Snuffle. He is such an ass; and yet +he's had wit enough to get to the top of the tree, and to keep +himself there. He began the world without a penny. Now he has got a +handle to his name, and he'll live in clover all his life. It's very +odd, isn't it, Mrs Dale?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he does his work?"</p> + +<p>"When men get so high as that, there's no knowing whether they work +or whether they don't. There isn't much for them to do, as far as I +can see. They have to look beautiful, and frighten the young ones."</p> + +<p>"And does Sir Raffle look beautiful?" Lily asked.</p> + +<p>"After a fashion, he does. There is something imposing about such a +man till you're used to it, and can see through it. Of course it's +all padding. There are men who work, no doubt. But among the bigwigs, +and bishops and cabinet ministers, I fancy that the looking beautiful +is the chief part of it. Dear me, you don't mean to say it's luncheon +time?"</p> + +<p>But it was luncheon time, and not only had he not as yet said a word +of all that which he had come to say, but had not as yet made any +move towards getting it said. How was he to arrange that Lily should +be left alone with him? Lady Julia had said that she should not +expect him back till dinner-time, and he had answered her +lackadaisically, "I don't suppose I shall be there above ten minutes. +Ten minutes will say all I've got to say, and do all I've got to do. +And then I suppose I shall go and cut names about upon bridges,—eh, +Lady Julia?" Lady Julia understood his words; for once, upon a former +occasion, she had found him cutting Lily's name on the rail of a +wooden bridge in her brother's grounds. But he had now been a couple +of hours at the Small House, and had not said a word of that which he +had come to say.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to walk out with us after lunch?" said Lily.</p> + +<p>"He will have had walking enough," said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>"We'll convoy him back part of the way," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going yet," said Johnny, "unless you turn me out."</p> + +<p>"But we must have our walk before it is dark," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"You might go up with him to your uncle," said Mrs Dale. "Indeed, I +promised to go up myself, and so did you, Grace, to see the +microscope. I heard Mr Dale give orders that one of those long-legged +reptiles should be caught on purpose for your inspection."</p> + +<p>Mrs Dale's little scheme for bringing the two together was very +transparent, but it was not the less wise on that account. Schemes +will often be successful, let them be ever so transparent. Little +intrigues become necessary, not to conquer unwilling people, but +people who are willing enough, who, nevertheless, cannot give way +except under the machinations of an intrigue.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I'll mind looking at the long-legged creature, +to-day," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"I must go, of course," said Grace.</p> + +<p>Lily said nothing at the moment, either about the long-legged +creature or the walk. That which must be, must be. She knew well why +John Eames had come there. She knew that the visits to his mother and +to Lady Julia would never have been made, but that he might have this +interview. And he had a right to demand, at any rate, as much as +that. That which must be, must be. And therefore when both Mrs Dale +and Grace stoutly maintained their purpose of going up to the squire, +Lily neither attempted to persuade John to accompany them, nor said +that she would do so herself.</p> + +<p>"I will convoy you home myself," she said, "and Grace, when she has +done with the beetle, shall come and meet me. Won't you, Grace?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"We are not helpless young ladies in these parts, nor yet timorous," +continued Lily. "We can walk about without being afraid of ghosts, +robbers, wild bulls, young men, or gipsies. Come the field path, +Grace. I will go as far as the big oak with him, and then I shall +turn back, and I shall come in by the stile opposite the church gate, +and through the garden. So you can't miss me."</p> + +<p>"I daresay he'll come back with you," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"No, he won't. He will do nothing of the kind. He'll have to go on +and open Lady Julia's bottle of port wine for his own drinking."</p> + +<p>All this was very good on Lily's part, and very good also on the part +of Mrs Dale; and John was of course very much obliged to them. But +there was a lack of romance in it all, which did not seem to him to +argue well as to his success. He did not think much about it, but he +felt that Lily would not have been so ready to arrange their walk had +she intended to yield to his entreaty. No doubt in these latter days +plain good sense had become the prevailing mark of her +character,—perhaps, as Johnny thought, a little too strongly +prevailing; but even with all her plain good sense and determination +to dispense with the absurdities of romance in the affairs of her +life, she would not have proposed herself as his companion for a walk +across the fields merely that she might have an opportunity of +accepting his hand. He did not say all this to himself, but he +instinctively felt that it was so. And he felt also that it should +have been his duty to arrange the walk, or the proper opportunity for +the scene that was to come. She had done it instead,—she and her +mother between them, thereby forcing upon him a painful conviction +that he himself had not been equal to the occasion. "I always make a +mull of it," he said to himself, when the girls went up to get their +hats.</p> + +<p>They went down together through the garden, and parted where the +paths led away, one to the great house and the other towards the +church. "I'll certainly come and call upon the squire before I go +back to London," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"We'll tell him so," said Mrs Dale. "He would be sure to hear that +you had been with us, even if we said nothing about it."</p> + +<p>"Of course he would," said Lily; "Hopkins has seen him." Then they +separated, and Lily and John Eames were together.</p> + +<p>Hardly a word was said, perhaps not a word, till they had crossed the +road and got into the field opposite to the church. And in this first +field there was more than one path, and the children of the village +were often there, and it had about it something of a public nature. +John Eames felt that it was by no means a fitting field to say that +which he had to say. In crossing it, therefore, he merely remarked +that the day was very fine for walking. Then he added one special +word, "And it is so good of you, Lily, to come with me."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to come with you. I would do more than that, John, to +show how glad I am to see you." Then they had come to the second +little gate, and beyond that the fields were really fields, and there +were stiles instead of wicket-gates, and the business of the day must +be begun.</p> + +<p>"Lily, whenever I come here you say that you are glad to see me?"</p> + +<p>"And so I am,—very glad. Only you would take it as meaning what it +does not mean, I would tell you, that of all my friends living away +from the reach of my daily life, you are the one whose coming is ever +the most pleasant to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lily!"</p> + +<p>"It was, I think, only yesterday that I was telling Grace that you +are more like a brother to me than any one else. I wish it might be +so. I wish we might swear to be brother and sister. I'd do more for +you then than walk across the fields with you to Guestwick Cottage. +Your prosperity would then be the thing in the world for which I +should be most anxious. And if you should +marry<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"It can never be like that between us," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Can it not? I think it can. Perhaps not this year, or next year; +perhaps not in the next five years. But I make myself happy with +thinking that it may be so some day. I shall wait for it patiently, +even though you should rebuff me again and again,—as you have done +now."</p> + +<p>"I have not rebuffed you."</p> + +<p>"Not maliciously, or injuriously, or offensively. I will be very +patient, and take little rebuffs without complaining. This is the +worst stile of all. When Grace and I are here together we can never +manage it without tearing ourselves all to pieces. It is much nicer +to have you to help me."</p> + +<p>"Let me help you always," he said, keeping her hands in his after he +had aided her to jump from the stile to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Yes, as my brother."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense, Lily."</p> + +<p>"Is it nonsense? Nonsense is a hard word."</p> + +<p>"It is nonsense as coming from you to me. Lily, I sometimes think +that I am persecuting you, writing to you, coming after you, as I am +doing now,—telling the same whining story,—asking, asking, and +asking for that which you say you will never give me. And then I feel +ashamed of myself, and swear that I will do it no more."</p> + +<p>"Do not be ashamed of yourself; but yet do it no more."</p> + +<p>"And then," he continued, without minding her words, "at other times +I feel that it must be my own fault; that if I only persevered with +sufficient energy I must be successful. At such times I swear that I +will never give it up."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, if you could only know how little worthy of such pursuit +it is."</p> + +<p>"Leave me to judge of that, dear. When a man has taken a month, or +perhaps only a week, or perhaps not more than half an hour, to make +up his mind, it may be very well to tell him that he doesn't know +what he is about. I've been in the office now for over seven years, +and the first day I went I put an oath into a book that I would come +back and get you for my wife when I had got enough to live upon."</p> + +<p>"Did you, John?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I can show it to you. I used to come and hover about the place +in the old days, before I went to London, when I was such a fool that +I couldn't speak to you if I met you. I am speaking of a time long +ago,—before that man came down here."</p> + +<p>"Do not speak of him, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"I must speak of him. A man isn't to hold his tongue when everything +he has in the world is at stake. I suppose he loved you after a +fashion, once."</p> + +<p>"Pray, pray do not speak ill of him."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to abuse him. You can judge of him by his deeds. I +cannot say anything worse of him than what they say. I suppose he +loved you; but he certainly did not love you as I have done. I have +at any rate been true to you. Yes, Lily, I have been true to you. I +am true to you. He did not know what he was about. I do. I am +justified in saying that I do. I want you to be my wife. It is no use +your talking about it as though I only half wanted it."</p> + +<p>"I did not say that."</p> + +<p>"Is not a man to have any reward? Of course if you had married him +there would have been an end of it. He had come in between me and my +happiness, and I must have borne it, as other men bear such sorrows. +But you have not married him; and, of course, I cannot but feel that +I may yet have a chance. Lily, answer me this. Do you believe that I +love you?" But she did not answer him. "You can at any rate tell me +that. Do you think that I am in earnest?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think you are in earnest."</p> + +<p>"And do you believe that I love you with all my heart and all my +strength and all my soul?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, John!"</p> + +<p>"But do you?"</p> + +<p>"I think you love me."</p> + +<p>"Think! what am I to say or to do to make you understand that my only +idea of happiness is the idea that sooner or later I may get you to +be my wife? Lily, will you say that it shall be so? Speak, Lily. +There is no one that will not be glad. Your uncle will consent,—has +consented. Your mother wishes it. Bell wishes it. My mother wishes +it. Lady Julia wishes it. You would be doing what everybody around +you wants you to do. And why should you not do it? It isn't that you +dislike me. You wouldn't talk about being my sister, if you had not +some sort of regard for me."</p> + +<p>"I have a regard for you."</p> + +<p>"Then why will you not be my wife? Oh, Lily, say the word now, here, +at once. Say the word, and you'll make me the happiest fellow in all +England." As he spoke he took her by both arms, and held her fast. +She did not struggle to get away from him, but stood quite still, +looking into his face, while the first sparkle of a salt tear formed +itself in each eye. "Lily, one little word will do it,—half a word, +a nod, a smile. Just touch my arm with your hand and I will take it +for a yes." I think that she almost tried to touch him; that the word +was in her throat, and that she almost strove to speak it. But there +was no syllable spoken, and her fingers did not loose themselves to +fall upon his sleeve. "Lily, Lily, what can I say to you?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could," she whispered;—but the whisper was so hoarse that +he hardly recognized the voice.</p> + +<p>"And why can you not? What is there to hinder you? There is nothing +to hinder you, Lily."</p> + +<p>"Yes, John; there is that which must hinder me."</p> + +<p>"And what is it?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you. You are so good and so true, and so +excellent,—such a dear, dear friend, that I will tell you +everything, so that you may read my heart. I will tell you as I tell +mamma,—you and her and no one else;—for you are the choice friend +of my heart. I cannot be your wife because of the love I bear for +another man."</p> + +<p>"And that man is he,—he who came here?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is he. I think, Johnny, you and I are alike in this, +that when we have loved, we cannot bring ourselves to change. You +will not change, though it would be so much better you should do so."</p> + +<p>"No; I will never change."</p> + +<p>"Nor can I. When I sleep I dream of him. When I am alone I cannot +banish him from my thoughts. I cannot define what it is to love him. +I want nothing from him,—nothing, nothing. But I move about through +my little world thinking of him, and I shall do so till the end. I +used to feel proud of my love, though it made me so wretched that I +thought it would kill me. I am not proud of it any longer. It is a +foolish poor-spirited weakness,—as though my heart has been only +half formed in the making. Do you be stronger, John. A man should be +stronger than a woman."</p> + +<p>"I have none of that sort of strength."</p> + +<p>"Nor have I. What can we do but pity each other, and swear that we +will be friends,—dear friends. There is the oak-tree and I have got +to turn back. We have said everything that we can say,—unless you +will tell me that you will be my brother."</p> + +<p>"No; I will not tell you that."</p> + +<p>"Good-by, then, Johnny."</p> + +<p>He paused, holding her by the hand and thinking of another question +which he longed to put to her,—considering whether he would ask her +that question or not. He hardly knew whether he were entitled to ask +it;—whether or no the asking of it would be ungenerous. She had said +that she would tell him everything,—as she had told everything to +her mother. "Of course," he said, "I have no right to expect to know +anything of your future intentions?"</p> + +<p>"You may know them all,—as far as I know them myself. I have said +that you should read my heart."</p> + +<p>"If this man, whose name I cannot bear to mention, should come +again<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"If he were to come again he would come in vain, John." She did not +say that he had come again. She could tell her own secret, but not +that of another person.</p> + +<p>"You would not marry him, now that he is free?"</p> + +<p>She stood and thought for a while before she answered him. "No, I +should not marry him now. I think not." Then she paused again. "Nay, +I am sure I would not. After what has passed I could not trust myself +to do it. There is my hand on it. I will not."</p> + +<p>"No, Lily, I do not want that."</p> + +<p>"But I insist. I will not marry Mr Crosbie. But you must not +misunderstand me, John. There;—all that is over for me now. All +those dreams about love, and marriage, and of a house of my own, and +children,—and a cross husband, and a wedding-ring growing always +tighter as I grow fatter and older. I have dreamed of such things as +other girls do,—more perhaps than other girls, more than I should +have done. And now I accept the thing as finished. You wrote +something in your book, you dear John,—something that could not be +made to come true. Dear John, I wish for your sake it was otherwise. +I will go home and I will write in my book, this very day, Lilian +Dale, Old Maid. If ever I make that false, do you come and ask me for +the page."</p> + +<p>"Let it remain there till I am allowed to tear it out."</p> + +<p>"I will write it, and it shall never be torn out. You I cannot marry. +Him I will not marry. You may believe me, Johnny, when I say there +can never be a third."</p> + +<p>"And is that to be the end of it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—that is to be the end of it. Not the end of our friendship. +Old maids have friends."</p> + +<p>"It shall not be the end of it. There shall be no end of it with me."</p> + +<p>"But, John—"</p> + +<p>"Do not suppose that I will trouble you again,—at any rate not for a +while. In five years' time perhaps,<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Now, Johnny, you are laughing at me. And of course it is the best +way. If there is not Grace, and she has caught me before I have +turned back. Good-by, dear, dear John. God bless you. I think you the +finest fellow in the world. I do, and so does mamma. Remember always +that there is a temple at Allington in which your worship is never +forgotten." Then she pressed his hand and turned away from him to +meet Grace Crawley. John did not stop to speak a word to his cousin, +but pursued his way alone.</p> + +<p>"That cousin of yours," said Lily, "is simply the dearest, +warmest-hearted, finest creature that ever was seen in the shape of a +man."</p> + +<p>"Have you told him that you think him so?" said Grace.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I have," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"But have you told this finest, warmest, dearest creature that he +shall be rewarded with the prize he covets?"</p> + +<p>"No, Grace. I have told him nothing of the kind. I think he +understands it all now. If he does not, it is not for the want of my +telling him. I don't suppose any lady was ever more open-spoken to a +gentleman that I have been to him."</p> + +<p>"And why have you sent him away disappointed? You know you love him."</p> + +<p>"You see, my dear," said Lily, "you allow yourself, for the sake of +your argument, to use a word in a double sense, and you attempt to +confound me by doing so. But I am a great deal too clever for you, +and have thought too much about it, to be taken in in that way. I +certainly love your cousin John; and so do I love Mr Boyce, the +vicar."</p> + +<p>"You love Johnny much better than you do Mr Boyce."</p> + +<p>"True; very much better; but it is of the same sort of love. However, +it is a great deal too deep for you to understand. You're too young, +and I shan't try to explain it. But the long and the short of it +is,—I am not going to marry your cousin."</p> + +<p>"I wish you were," said Grace, "with all my heart."</p> + +<p>John Eames as he returned to the cottage was by no means able to fall +back upon those resolutions as to his future life, which he had +formed for himself and communicated to his friend Dalrymple, and +which he had intended to bring at once into force in the event of his +being again rejected by Lily Dale. "I will cleanse my mind of it +altogether," he had said, "and though I may not forget her, I will +live as though she were forgotten. If she declines my proposal again, +I will accept her word as final. I will not go about the world any +longer as a stricken deer,—to be pitied or else bullied by the rest +of the herd." On his way down to Guestwick he had sworn twenty times +that it should be so. He would make one more effort, and then he +would give it up. But now, after his interview with Lily, he was as +little disposed to give it up as ever.</p> + +<p>He sat upon a gate in a paddock through which there was a back +entrance into Lady Julia's garden, and there swore a thousand oaths +that he would never give her up. He was, at any rate, sure that she +would never become the wife of any one else. He was equally sure that +he would never become the husband of any other wife. He could trust +her. Yes; he was sure of that. But could he trust himself? Communing +with himself, he told himself that after all he was but a poor +creature. Circumstances had been very good to him, but he had done +nothing for himself. He was vain, and foolish, and unsteady. So he +told himself while sitting upon the gate. But he had, at any rate, +been constant to Lily, and constant he would remain.</p> + +<p>He would never more mention her name to any one,—unless it were to +Lady Julia to-night. To Dalrymple he would not open his mouth about +her, but would plainly ask his friend to be silent on that subject if +her name should be mentioned by him. But morning and evening he would +pray for her, and in his prayers he would always think of her as his +wife. He would never speak to another girl without remembering that +he was bound to Lily. He would go nowhere into society without +recalling to mind the fact that he was bound by the chains of a +solemn engagement. If he knew himself he would be constant to Lily.</p> + +<p>And then he considered in what manner it would be best and most +becoming that he should still prosecute his endeavour and repeat his +offer. He thought that he would write to her every year, on the same +day of the year, year after year, it might be for the next twenty +years. And his letters should be very simple. Sitting there on the +gate he planned the wording of his letters;—of his first letter, and +of his second, and of his third. They should be very like to each +other,—should hardly be more than a repetition of the same words. +"If now you are ready for me, then Lily, am I, as ever, still ready +for you." And then "if now" again, and again "if now;"—and still "if +now". When his hair should be grey, and the wrinkles on his +cheeks,—ay, though they should be on hers, he would still continue +to tell her from year to year that he was ready to take her. Surely +some day that "if now" would prevail. And should it never prevail, +the merit of his constancy should be its own reward.</p> + +<p>Such letters as those she would surely keep. Then he looked forward, +down into the valley of coming years, and fancied her as she might +sit reading them in the twilight of some long evening,—letters which +had been written all in vain. He thought that he could look forward +with some satisfaction towards the close of his own career, in having +been the hero of such a love-story. At any rate, if such a story were +to be his story, the melancholy attached to it should arise from no +fault of his own. He would still press her to be his wife. And then +as he remembered that he was only twenty-seven and that she was +twenty-four, he began to marvel at the feeling of grey old age which +had come upon him, and tried to make himself believe that he would +have her yet before the bloom was off her cheek.</p> + +<p>He went into the cottage and made his way at once into the room in +which Lady Julia was sitting. She did not speak at first, but looked +anxiously into his face. And he did not speak, but turned to a table +near the window and took up a book,—though the room was too dark for +him to see to read the words. "John," at last said Lady Julia.</p> + +<p>"Well, my lady?"</p> + +<p>"Have you nothing to tell me, John?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing on earth,—except the same old story, which has now become a +matter of course."</p> + +<p>"But, John, will you not tell me what she has said?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Julia, she has said no; simply no. It is a very easy word to +say, and she has said it so often that it seems to come from her +quite naturally." Then he got a candle and sat down over the fire +with a volume of a novel. It was not yet past five, and Lady Julia +did not go upstairs to dress till six, and therefore there was an +hour during which they were together. John had at first been rather +grand to his old friend, and very uncommunicative. But before the +dressing-bell had rung he had been coaxed into a confidential strain +and had told everything. "I suppose it is wrong and selfish," he +said. "I suppose I am a dog in a manger. But I do own that there is a +consolation to me in the assurance that she will never be the wife of +that scoundrel."</p> + +<p>"I could never forgive her if she were to marry him now," said Lady +Julia.</p> + +<p>"I could never forgive him. But she has said that she will not, and I +know that she will not forswear herself. I shall go on with it, Lady +Julia. I have made up my mind to that. I suppose it will never come +to anything, but I shall stick to it. I can live an old bachelor as +well as another man. At any rate I shall stick to it." Then the good +silly old woman comforted him and applauded him as though he were a +hero among men, and did reward him, as Lily had predicted, by one of +those now rare bottles of super-excellent port which had come to her +from her brother's cellar.</p> + +<p>John Eames stayed out his time at the cottage, and went over more +than once again to Allington, and called on the squire, on one +occasion dining with him and meeting the three ladies from the Small +House; and he walked with the girls, comporting himself like any +ordinary man. But he was not again alone with Lily Dale, nor did he +learn whether she had in truth written those two words in her book. +But the reader may know that she did write them there on the evening +of the day on which the promise was made. "Lilian Dale,—Old Maid".</p> + +<p>And when John's holiday was over, he returned to his duties at the +elbow of Sir Raffle Buffle.</p> + + +<p><a name="c36" id="c36"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI</h3> +<h3>Grace Crawley Returns Home<br /> </h3> + + +<p>About this time Grace Crawley received two letters, the first of them +reaching her while John Eames was still at the cottage, and the other +immediately after his return to London. They both help to tell our +story, and our reader shall, therefore, read them if he so +please,—or, rather, he shall read the first and as much of the +second as is necessary for him. Grace's answer to the first letter he +shall see also. Her answer to the second will be told in a very few +words. The first was from Major Grantly, and the task of answering +that was by no means easy to Grace.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Cosby Lodge</span>, +–– February, 186––</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Grace</span>,</p> + +<p>I told you when I parted from you, that I should write to +you, and I think it best to do so at once, in order that +you may fully understand me. Spoken words are soon +forgotten,—<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"I shall never forget his words," Grace said to herself as she read +this;—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">and are not always as plain as they might be. Dear Grace, +I suppose I ought not to say so, but I fancied when I +parted from you at Allington, that I had succeeded in +making myself dear to you. I believe you to be so true in +spirit, that you were unable to conceal from me the fact +that you love me. I shall believe that this is so, till I +am deliberately and solemnly assured by yourself that it +is not so;—and I conjure you to think what is due both to +yourself and to myself, before you allow yourself to think +of making such an assurance unless it be strictly true.</p> + +<p>I have already told my friends that I have asked you to be +my wife. I tell you this, in order that you may know how +little effect your answer to me has had towards inducing +me to give you up. What you said about your father and +your family has no weight with me, and ought ultimately to +have none with you. This business of your father's is a +great misfortune,—so great that, probably, had we not +known each other before it happened, it might have +prevented our becoming intimate when we chanced to meet. +But we had met before it happened, and before it happened +I had determined to ask you to be my wife. What should I +have to think of myself if I allowed my heart to be +altered by such a cause as that?</p> + +<p>I have only further to say that I love you better than any +one in the world, and that it is my best hope that you +will be my wife. I will not press you till this affair of +your father's has been settled; but when that is over, I +shall look for my reward without reference to its result. +Not that I doubt the result if there be anything like +justice in England; but that your debt to me, if you owe +me any debt, will be altogether irrespective of that. If, +as I suppose, you will remain at Allington for some time +longer, I shall not see you till after the trial is over. +As soon as that is done, I will come to you wherever you +are. In the meantime I shall look for an answer to this; +and if it be true that you love me, dear, dear Grace, pray +have the courage to tell me so.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Most affectionately your own,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Henry +Grantly</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>When the letter was given to Grace across the breakfast-table, both +Mrs Dale and Lily suspected that it came from Major Grantly, but not +a word was spoken about it. When Grace with hesitating hand broke the +envelope, neither of her friends looked at her. Lily had a letter of +her own, and Mrs Dale opened the newspaper. But still it was +impossible not to perceive that her face became red with blushes, and +then they knew that the letter must be from Major Grantly. Grace +herself could not read it, though her eye ran down over the two pages +catching a word here and a word there. She had looked at the name at +once, and had seen the manner of his signature. "Most affectionately +your own!" What was she to say to him? Twice, thrice, as she sat at +the breakfast-table she turned the page of the letter, and at each +turning she read the signature. And she read the beginning, "Dearest +Grace." More than that she did not really read till she had got the +letter away with her into the seclusion of her own room.</p> + +<p>Not a word was said about the letter at breakfast. Poor Grace went on +eating or pretending to eat, but could not bring herself to utter a +word. Mrs Dale and Lily spoke of various matters, which were quite +indifferent to them; but even with them the conversation was so +difficult that Grace felt it to be forced, and was conscious that +they were thinking about her and her lover. As soon as she could make +an excuse she left the room, and hurrying upstairs took the letter +from her pocket and read it in earnest.</p> + +<p>"That was from Major Grantly, mamma," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"I daresay it was, my dear."</p> + +<p>"And what had we better do; or what had we better say?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing,—I should say. Let him fight his own battle. If we +interfere, we may probably only make her more stubborn in clinging to +her old idea."</p> + +<p>"I think she will cling to it."</p> + +<p>"For a time she will, I daresay. And it will be best that she should. +He himself will respect her for it afterwards." Thus it was agreed +between them that they should say nothing to Grace about the letter +unless Grace should first speak to them.</p> + +<p>Grace read her letter over and over again. It was the first +love-letter she had ever had;—the first letter she had ever received +from any man except her father and brother,—the first, almost, that +had ever been written to her by any other than her own old special +friends. The words of it were very strange to her ear. He had told +her when he left her that he would write to her, and therefore she +had looked forward to the event which had now come; but she had +thought that it would be much more distant,—and she had tried to +make herself believe that when it did come it would be very different +from this letter which she now possessed. "He will tell me that he +has altered his mind. He ought to do so. It is not proper that he +should still think of me when we are in such disgrace." But now the +letter had come, and she acknowledged the truth of his saying that +written words were clearer in their expression than those simply +spoken. "Not that I could ever forget a syllable that he said." Yet, +as she held the letter in her hand she felt that it was a possession. +It was a thing at which she could look in coming years, when he and +she might be far apart,—a thing at which she could look with pride +in remembering that he had thought her worthy of it.</p> + +<p>Neither on that day nor on the next did she think of her answer, nor +on the third or fourth day with any steady thinking. She knew that an +answer would have to be written, and she felt that the sooner it was +written the easier might be the writing; but she felt also that it +should not be written too quickly. A week should first elapse, she +thought, and therefore a week was allowed to elapse, and then the day +for writing her answer came. She had spoken no word about it either +to Mrs Dale or to Lily. She had longed to do so, but had feared. Even +though she should speak to Lily she could not be led by Lily's +advice. Her letter, whatever it might be, must be her own letter. She +would admit of no dictation. She must say her own say, let her say it +ever so badly. As to the manner of saying it, Lily's aid would have +been invaluable; but she feared that she could not secure that aid +without compromising her own power of action,—her own individuality; +and therefore she said no word about the letter either to Lily or to +Lily's mother.</p> + +<p>On a certain morning she fixed herself at her desk to write her +letter. She had known that the task would be difficult, but she had +little known how difficult it would be. On that day of her first +attempt she did not get it written at all. How was she to begin? He +had called her "Dearest Grace;" and this mode of beginning seemed as +easy as it was sweet. "It is very easy for a gentleman," she said to +herself, "because he may say just what he pleases." She wrote the +words, "Dearest Henry," on a scrap of paper, and immediately tore it +into fragments as though she were ashamed of having written them. She +knew that she would not dare to send away a letter beginning with +such words. She would not even have dared to let such words in her +own handwriting remain within the recesses of her own little desk. +"Dear Major Grantly," she began at length. It seemed to her to be +very ugly, but after much consideration she believed it to be +correct. On the second day the letter was written as +follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Allington</span>, +Thursday.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear +Major Grantly</span>,</p> + +<p>I do not know how I ought to answer your kind letter, but +I must tell you that I am very much flattered by your +great goodness to me. I cannot understand why you should +think so much of me, but I suppose it is because you have +felt for all our misfortunes. I will not say anything +about what might have happened, if it had not been for +papa's sorrow and disgrace; and as far as I can help it, I +will not think of it; but I am sure that I ought not to +think about loving any one, that is, in the way you mean, +while we are in such trouble at home. I should not dare to +meet any of your great friends, knowing that I had brought +nothing with me but disgrace. And I should feel that I was +doing an injury to <span class="u">dear</span> +Edith, which would be worse to +me than anything.</p> + +<p>Pray believe that I am quite in earnest about this. I know +that a gentleman ought not to marry any girl to do himself +and his family an injury by it; and I know that if I were +to make such a marriage I should be unhappy ever +afterwards, even though I loved the man ever so dearly, +with all my heart.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>These last words she had underscored at first, but the doing so had +been the unconscious expression of her own affection, and had been +done with no desire on her part to convey that expression to him. But +on reading the words she discovered their latent meaning, and wrote +it all again.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>Therefore I know that it will be best that I should wish +you good-by, and I do so, thanking you again and again for +your goodness to me.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind10">Believe me to be,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12">Yours very sincerely,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Grace +Crawley</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The letter when it was written was hateful to her; but she had tried +her hand at it again and again, and had found that she could do +nothing better. There was much in his letter that she had not +attempted to answer. He had implored her to tell him whether or no +she did in truth love him. Of course she loved him. He knew that well +enough. Why should she answer any such question? There was a way of +answering it indeed which might serve her turn,—or rather serve his, +of which she was thinking more than of her own. She might say that +she did not love him. It would be a lie, and he would know that it +would be a lie. But still it might serve the turn. She did not like +the idea of writing such a lie as that, but nevertheless she +considered the matter. It would be very wicked; but still, if it +would serve the turn, might it not be well to write it? But at last +she reflected that, after all, the doing of the thing was in her own +hands. She could refuse to marry this man without burdening her +conscience with any lie about it. It only required that she should be +firm. She abstained, therefore, from the falsehood, and left her +lover's question unanswered. So she put up her letter and directed +it, and carried it herself to the village post-office.</p> + +<p>On the day after this she got the second letter, and that she showed +immediately to Mrs Dale. It was from her mother, and was written to +tell that her father was seriously ill. "He went up to London to see +a lawyer about this weary work of the trial," said Mrs Crawley. "The +fatigue was very great, and on the next day he was so weak that he +could not leave his bed. Dr Turner, who has been very kind, says that +we need not frighten ourselves, but he thinks it must be some time +before he can leave the house. He has a low fever on him, and wants +nourishment. His mind has wandered once or twice, and he has asked +for you, and I think it will be best, love, that you should come +home. I know you will not mind it when I say that I think he would +like to have you here. Dr Turner says that the illness is chiefly +owing to his not having proper food."</p> + +<p>Of course she would go at once. "Dear Mrs Dale," she said; "I must go +home. Can you send me to the station?" Then Mrs Dale read the letter. +Of course they would send her. Would she go on that day, or on the +next? Might it not be better to write first, and say that she was +going? But Grace would go at once. "I know it will be a comfort to +mamma; and I know that he is worse than mamma says." Of course there +was no more to be said, and she was despatched to the station. Before +she went Mrs Dale asked after her purse. "If there is any trouble +about money,—for your journey, or anything, you will not scruple to +come to me as to an old friend." But Grace assured her that there was +no trouble about money—for her journey. Then Lily took her aside and +produced two clean new five-pound notes. "Grace, dear, you won't be +ill-natured. You know I have a little fortune of my own. You know I +can give them without missing them." Grace threw herself into her +friend's arms and wept, but would have none of her money. "Buy a +present from me for your mother,—whom I love though I do not know +her." "I will give her your love," Grace said, "but nothing else." +And then she went.</p> + + +<p><a name="c37" id="c37"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVII</h3> +<h3>Hook Court<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Mr Dobbs Broughton and Mr Musselboro were sitting together on a +certain morning at their office in the City, discussing the affairs +of their joint business. The City office was a very poor place +indeed, in comparison with the fine house which Mr Dobbs occupied at +the West End; but then City offices are poor places, and there are +certain City occupations which seem to enjoy the greater credit the +poorer are the material circumstances by which they are surrounded. +Turning out of a lane which turns out of Lombard Street, there is a +desolate, forlorn-looking, dark alley, which is called Hook Court. +The entrance to this alley is beneath the first-floor of one of the +houses in the lane, and in passing under this covered way the visitor +to the place finds himself in a small paved square court, at the two +further corners of which there are two open doors; for in Hook Court +there are only two houses. There is No 1, Hook Court, and No 2, Hook +Court. The entire premises indicated by No 1 are occupied by a firm +of wine and spirit merchants, in connexion with whose trade one side +and two angles of the court are always lumbered with crates, hampers, +and wooden cases. And nearly in the middle of the court, though +somewhat more to the wine-merchants' side than to the other, there is +always gaping open a trap-door, leading down to vaults below; and +over the trap there is a great board with a bright advertisement in +very large letters:—<br /> </p> + + +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="large">BURTON AND BANGLES</span><br /> +HIMALAYA WINES,<br /> +<i>22s 6d per dozen</i><br /> </p> +</div> + + +<p>And this notice is so bright and so large, and the trap-door is so +conspicuous in the court, that no visitor, even to No 2, ever +afterwards can quite divest his memory of those names, Burton and +Bangles, Himalaya wines. It may therefore be acknowledged that Burton +and Bangles have achieved their object in putting up the notice. The +house No 2, small as it seems to be, standing in the jamb of a +corner, is divided among different occupiers, whose names are painted +in small letters upon the very dirty posts of the doorway. Nothing +can be more remarkable than the contrast between Burton and Bangles +and these other City gentlemen in the method taken by them in +declaring their presence to visitors in the court. The names of Dobbs +Broughton and of A. Musselboro,—the Christian name of Mr Musselboro +was Augustus,—were on one of those dirty posts, not joined together +by any visible "and", so as to declare boldly that they were +partners; but in close vicinity,—showing at least that the two +gentlemen would be found in apartments very near to each other. And +on the first-floor of this house Dobbs Broughton and his friend did +occupy three rooms,—or rather two rooms and a closet,—between them. +The larger and front room was tenanted by an old clerk, who sat +within a rail in one corner of it. And there was a broad, short +counter which jutted out from the wall into the middle of the room, +intended for the use of such of the public as might come to transact +miscellaneous business with Dobbs Broughton or Augustus Musselboro. +But any one accustomed to the look of offices might have seen with +half an eye that very little business was ever done on that counter. +Behind this large room was a smaller one, belonging to Dobbs +Broughton, in the furnishing and arrangement of which some regard had +been paid to comfort. The room was carpeted, and there was a sofa in +it, though a very old one, and two arm-chairs and a mahogany +office-table, and a cellaret, which was generally well supplied with +wine which Dobbs Broughton did not get out of the vaults of his +neighbours, Burton and Bangles. Behind this again, but with a +separate entrance from the passage, was the closet; and this closet +was specially devoted to the use of Mr Musselboro. Closet as it +was,—or cupboard as it might almost have been called,—it contained +a table and two chairs; and it had a window of its own, which opened +out upon a blank wall which was distant from it not above four feet. +As the house to which this wall belonged was four stories high, it +would sometimes happen that Mr Musselboro's cupboard was rather dark. +But this mattered the less as in these days Mr Musselboro seldom used +it. Mr Musselboro, who was very constant at his place of +business,—much more constant than his friend, Dobbs Broughton,—was +generally to be found in his friend's room. Only on some special +occasions, on which it was thought expedient that the commercial +world should be made to understand that Mr Augustus Musselboro had an +individual existence of his own, did that gentleman really seat +himself in the dark closet. Mr Dobbs Broughton, had he been asked +what was his trade, would have said that he was a stockbroker; and he +would have answered truly, for he was a stockbroker. A man may be a +stockbroker though he never sells any stock; as he may be a barrister +though he has no practice at the bar. I do not say that Mr Broughton +never sold any stock; but the buying and selling of stock for other +people was certainly not his chief business. And had Mr Musselboro +been asked what was his trade, he would have probably given an +evasive answer. At any rate in the City, and among people who +understood City matters, he would not have said that he was a +stockbroker. Both Mr Broughton and Mr Musselboro bought and sold a +good deal, but it was chiefly on account. The shares which were +bought and sold very generally did not pass from hand to hand; but +the difference in the price of the shares did do so. And then they +had another little business between them. They lent money on +interest. And in this business there was a third partner, whose name +did not appear on the dirty door-post. That third partner was Mrs Van +Siever, the mother of Clara Van Siever whom Mr Conway Dalrymple +intended to portray as Jael driving a nail into Sisera's head.</p> + +<p>On a certain morning Mr Broughton and Mr Musselboro were sitting +together in the office which has been described. They were in Mr +Broughton's room, and occupied each arm-chair on the different sides +of the fire. Mr Musselboro was sitting close to the table, on which a +ledger was open before him, and he had a pen and ink before him, as +though he had been at work. Dobbs Broughton had a small betting-book +in his hand, and was seated with his feet up against the side of the +fireplace. Both men wore their hats, and the aspect of the room was +not the aspect of a place of business. They had been silent for some +minutes when Broughton took his cigar-case out of his pocket, and +nibbled off the end of a cigar, preparatory to lighting it.</p> + +<p>"You had better not smoke here this morning, Dobbs," said Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I smoke in my own room?"</p> + +<p>"Because she'll be here just now."</p> + +<p>"What do I care? If you think I'm going to be afraid of Mother Van, +you're mistaken. Let come what may, I'm not going to live under her +thumb." So he lighted his cigar.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Musselboro, and he took up his pen and went to work +at his book.</p> + +<p>"What is she coming here for this morning?" asked Broughton.</p> + +<p>"To look after her money. What should she come for?"</p> + +<p>"She gets her interest. I don't suppose there's better paid money in +the City."</p> + +<p>"She hasn't got what was coming to her at Christmas yet."</p> + +<p>"And this is February. What would she have? She had better put her +dirty money into the three per cents., if she is frightened at having +to wait a week or two."</p> + +<p>"Can she have it to-day?"</p> + +<p>"What, the whole of it? Of course she can't. You know that as well as +I do. She can have four hundred pounds, if she wants it. But seeing +all she gets out of the concern, she has no right to press for it in +that way. She is the +<span class="nowrap">––––</span> old usurer I +ever came across in my life."</p> + +<p>"Of course she likes her money."</p> + +<p>"Likes her money! By George she does; her own and anybody else's that +she can get hold of. For a downright leech, recommend me always to a +woman. When a woman does go in for it, she is much more thorough than +any man." Then Broughton turned over the little pages of his book, +and Musselboro pondered over the big pages of his book, and there was +silence for a quarter of an hour.</p> + +<p>"There's something about nine hundred and fifteen pounds due to her," +said Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"I daresay there is."</p> + +<p>"It would be a very good thing to let her have it if you've got it. +The whole of it this morning, I mean."</p> + +<p>"If! yes, if!" said Broughton.</p> + +<p>"I know there's more than that at the bank."</p> + +<p>"And I'm to draw out every shilling that there is! I'll see Mother +Van <span class="nowrap">––––</span> further +first. She can have £500 if she likes it,—and the +rest in a fortnight. Or she can have my note-of-hand for it all at +fourteen days."</p> + +<p>"She won't like that at all," said Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"Then she must lump it. I'm not going to bother myself about her. +I've pretty nearly as much money in it as she has, and we're in a +boat together. If she comes here bothering, you'd better tell her +so."</p> + +<p>"You'll see her yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless she comes within the next ten minutes. I must go down to +the court. I said I'd be there by twelve. I've got somebody I want to +see."</p> + +<p>"I'd stay if I were you."</p> + +<p>"Why should I stay for her? If she thinks that I'm going to make +myself her clerk, she's mistaken. It may be all very well for you, +Mussy, but it won't do for me. I'm not dependent on her, and I don't +want to marry her daughter."</p> + +<p>"It will simply end in her demanding to have her money back again."</p> + +<p>"And how will she get it?" said Dobbs Broughton. "I haven't a doubt +in life but she'd take it to-morrow if she could put her hands upon +it. And then, after a bit, when she began to find that she didn't +like four per cent., she'd bring it back again. But nobody can do +business after such a fashion as that. For the last three years she's +drawn close upon two thousand a year for less than eighteen thousand +pounds. When a woman wants to do that, she can't have her money in +her pocket every Monday morning."</p> + +<p>"But you've done better than that yourself, Dobbs."</p> + +<p>"Of course I have. And who has made the connexion; and who has done +the work? I suppose she doesn't think that I'm to have all the sweat +and that she is to have all the profit?"</p> + +<p>"If you talk of work, Dobbs, it is I that have done the most of it." +This Mr Musselboro said in a very serious voice, and with a look of +much reproach.</p> + +<p>"And you've been paid for what you've done. Come, Mussy, you'd better +not turn against me. You'll never get your change out of that. Even +if you marry the daughter, that won't give you the mother's money. +She'll stick to every shilling of it till she dies; and she'd take it +with her then, if she knew how." Having said this, he got up from his +chair, put his little book into his pocket, and walked out of the +office. He pushed his way across the court, which was more than +ordinarily crowded with the implements of Burton and Bangles' trade, +and as he passed under the covered way he encountered at the entrance +an old woman getting out of a cab. The old woman was, of course, +Mother Van, as her partner, Mr Dobbs Broughton, irreverently called +her. "Mrs Van Siever, how d'ye do? Let me give you a hand. Fare from +South Kensington? I always give the fellows three shillings."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to tell me it's six miles!" And she tendered a florin +to the man.</p> + +<p>"Can't take that, ma'am," said the cabman.</p> + +<p>"Can't take it! But you must take it. Broughton, just get a +policeman, will you?" Dobbs Broughton satisfied the driver out of his +own pocket, and the cab was driven away. "What did you give him?" +said Mrs Van Siever.</p> + +<p>"Just another sixpence. There never is a policeman anywhere about +here."</p> + +<p>"It'll be out of your own pocket, then," said Mrs Van. "But you're +not going away?"</p> + +<p>"I must be at Capel Court by half-past twelve;—I must, indeed. If it +wasn't real business, I'd stay."</p> + +<p>"I told Musselboro I should be here."</p> + +<p>"He's up there, and he knows all about the business just as well as I +do. When I found that I couldn't stay for you, I went through the +account with him, and it's all settled. Good morning. I'll see you at +the West End in a day or two." Then he made his way out into Lombard +Street, and Mrs Van Siever picked her steps across the yard, and +mounted the stairs, and made her way into the room in which Mr +Musselboro was sitting.</p> + +<p>"Somebody's been smoking, Gus," she said, almost as soon as she had +entered the room.</p> + +<p>"That's nothing new here," he replied, as he got up from his chair.</p> + +<p>"There's no good being done when men sit and smoke over their work. +Is it you, or he, or both of you?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—it was Broughton was smoking just now. I don't smoke of a +morning myself."</p> + +<p>"What made him get up and run away when I came?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell, Mrs Van Siever," said Musselboro, laughing. "If he +did run away when you came, I suppose it was because he didn't want +to see you."</p> + +<p>"And why shouldn't he want to see me? Gus, I expect the truth from +you. How are things going on here?" To this question Mr Musselboro +made no immediate answer; but tilted himself back in his chair and +took his hat off, and put his thumbs into the arm-holes of his +waistcoat, and looked his patroness full in the face. "Gus," she said +again, "I do expect the truth from you. How are things going on +here?"</p> + +<p>"There'd be a good business—if he'd only keep things together."</p> + +<p>"But he's idle. Isn't he idle?"</p> + +<p>"Confoundedly idle," said Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"And he drinks;—don't he drink in the day?"</p> + +<p>"Like the mischief,—some days. But that isn't the worst of it."</p> + +<p>"And what is the worst of it?"</p> + +<p>"Newmarket;—that's the rock he's going to pieces on."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say he takes the money out of the business for +that?" And Mrs Van Siever's face, as she asked the question, +expressed almost a tragic horror. "If I thought that I wouldn't give +him an hour's mercy."</p> + +<p>"When a man bets he doesn't well know what money he uses. I can't say +that he takes money that is not his own. Situated as I am, I don't +know what is his own and what isn't. If your money was in my name I +could keep a hand on it;—but as it is not I can do nothing. I can +see that what is put out is put out fairly well; and when I think of +it, Mrs Van Siever, it is quite wonderful that we've lost so little. +It has been next to nothing. That has been my doing;—and that's +about all I can do."</p> + +<p>"You must know whether he has used my money for his own purposes or +not."</p> + +<p>"If you ask me, I think he has," said Mr Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll go into it, and I'll find it out, and if it is so, as sure +as my name's Van Siever, I'll sew him up." Having uttered which +terrible threat, the old woman drew a chair to the table and seated +herself fairly down, as though she were determined to go through all +the books of the office before she quitted that room. Mrs Van Siever +in her present habiliments was not a thing so terrible to look at as +she had been in her wiggeries at Mrs Dobbs Broughton's dinner-table. +Her curls were laid aside altogether, and she wore simply a front +beneath her close bonnet,—and a very old front, too, which was not +loudly offensive because it told no lies. Her eyes were as bright, +and her little wizen face was as sharp, as ever; but the wizen face +and the bright eyes were not so much amiss as seen together with the +old dark brown silk dress which she now wore, as they had been with +the wiggeries and the evening finery. Even now, in her morning +costume, in her work-a-day business dress, as we may call it, she +looked to be very old,—so old that nobody could guess her age. +People attempting to guess would say that she must be at least over +eighty. And yet she was wiry, and strong, and nimble. It was not +because she was feeble that she was thought to be so old. They who so +judged of her were led to their opinion by the extreme thinness of +her face, and by the brightness of her eyes, joined to the depth of +the hollows in which they lay, and the red margin by which they were +surrounded. It was not really the fact that Mrs Van Siever was so +very aged, for she had still some years to live before she would +reach eighty, but that she was such a weird old woman, so small, so +ghastly, and so ugly! "I'll sew him up, if he's been robbing me," she +said. "I will, indeed!" And she stretched out her hand to grab at the +ledger which Musselboro had been using.</p> + +<p>"You won't understand anything from that," said he, pushing the book +over to her.</p> + +<p>"You can explain it to me."</p> + +<p>"That's all straight sailing, that is."</p> + +<p>"And where does he keep the figures that ain't straight sailing? +That's the book I want to see."</p> + +<p>"There is no such book."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Gus,—if I find you deceiving me I'll throw you overboard +as sure as I'm a living woman. I will indeed. I'll have no mercy. +I've stuck to you, and made a man of you, and I expect you to stick +to me."</p> + +<p>"Not much of a man," said Musselboro, with a touch of scorn in his +voice.</p> + +<p>"You've never had a shilling yet but what I gave you."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have. I've had what I've worked for,—and worked confounded +hard too."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Musselboro; if you're going to throw me over, just tell +me so, and let us begin fair."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to throw you over. I've always been on the square with +you. Why don't you trust me out and out, and then I could do a deal +better for you. You ask me now about your money. I don't know about +your money, Mrs Van Siever. How am I to know anything about your +money, Mrs Van Siever? You don't give me any power of keeping a hand +upon Dobbs Broughton. I suppose you have security from Dobbs +Broughton, but I don't know what security you have, Mrs Van Siever. +He owes you now £915 16s 2d on last year's account!"</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't he give me a cheque for the money?"</p> + +<p>"He says he can't spare it. You may have £500, and the rest when he +can give it to you. Or he'll give you his note-of-hand at fourteen +days for the whole."</p> + +<p>"Bother his note-of-hand. Why should I take his note-of-hand?"</p> + +<p>"Do as you like, Mrs Van Siever."</p> + +<p>"It's the interest on my own money. Why don't he give it me? I +suppose he has had it."</p> + +<p>"You must ask him that, Mrs Van Siever. You're in partnership with +him, and he can tell you. Nobody else knows anything about it. If you +were in partnership with me, then of course I could tell you. But +you're not. You've never trusted me, Mrs Van Siever."</p> + +<p>The lady remained there closeted with Mr Musselboro for an hour after +that, and did, I think, at length learn something more as to the +details of her partner's business, than her faithful servant Mr +Musselboro had at first found himself able to give to her. And at +last they came to friendly and confidential terms, in the midst of +which the personal welfare of Mr Dobbs Broughton was, I fear, +somewhat forgotten. Not that Mr Musselboro palpably and plainly threw +his friend overboard. He took his friend's part,—alleging excuses +for him, and pleading some facts. "Of course, you know, a man like +that is fond of pleasure, Mrs Van Siever. He's been at it more or +less all his life. I don't suppose he ever missed a Derby or an Oaks, +or the cup at Ascot, or the Goodwood in his life." "He'll have to +miss them before long, I'm thinking," said Mrs Van Siever. "And as to +not cashing up, you must remember, Mrs Van Siever, that ten per cent. +won't come in quite as regularly as four or five. When you go for +high interest, there must be hitches here and there. There must, +indeed, Mrs Van Siever." "I know all about it," said Mrs Van Siever. +"If he gave it to me as soon as he got it himself, I shouldn't +complain. Never mind. He's only got to give me my little bit of money +out of the business, and then he and I will be all square. You come +and see Clara this evening, Gus."</p> + +<p>Then Mr Musselboro put Mrs Van Siever into another cab, and went out +upon 'Change,—hanging about the Bank, and standing in Threadneedle +Street, talking to other men just like himself. When he saw Dobbs +Broughton he told that gentleman that Mrs Van Siever had been in her +tantrums, but that he had managed to pacify her before she left Hook +Court. "I'm to take the cheque for the five hundred to-night," he +said.</p> + + +<p><a name="c38" id="c38"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h3> +<h3>Jael<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On the first of March, Conway Dalrymple's easel was put up in Mrs +Dobbs Broughton's boudoir upstairs, the canvas was placed upon it on +which the outlines of Jael and Sisera had been already drawn, and Mrs +Broughton and Clara Van Siever and Conway Dalrymple were assembled +with the view of steady art-work. But before we see how they began +their work together, we will go back for a moment to John Eames on +his return to his London lodgings. The first thing every man does +when he returns home after an absence, is to look at his letters, and +John Eames looked at his. There were not very many. There was a note +marked immediate, from Sir Raffle Buffle, in which Sir R had scrawled +in four lines a notification that he should be driven to an extremity +of inconvenience if Eames were not at his post at half-past nine on +the following morning. "I think I see myself there at that hour," +said John. There was a notification of a house dinner, which he was +asked to join, at his club, and a card for an evening gathering at +Lady Glencora Palliser's,—procured for him by his friend +Conway,—and an invitation for dinner at the house of his uncle, Mr +Toogood; and there was a scented note in the handwriting of a lady, +which he did not recognise. "My nearest and dearest friend, M. D. +M.," he said, as he opened the note and looked at the signature. Then +he read the letter from Miss Demolines.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Mr Eames</span>,</p> + +<p>Pray come to me at once. I know that you are to be back +to-morrow. Do not lose an hour if you can help it. I shall +be at home at half-past five. I fear what you know of has +begun. But it certainly shall not go on. In one way or +another it must be prevented. I won't say another word +till I see you, but pray come at once.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours always,</p> + +<p class="ind15">M. D. M.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Thursday.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Poor mother isn't very well, so you +had better ask for me.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"Beautiful!" said Johnny, as he read the note. "There's nothing I +like so much as a mystery,—especially if it's about nothing. I +wonder why she is so desperately anxious that the picture should not +be painted. I'd ask Dalrymple, only I should spoil the mystery." Then +he sat himself down, and began to think of Lily. There could be no +treason to Lily in his amusing himself with the freaks of such a +woman as Miss Demolines.</p> + +<p>At eleven o'clock on the morning of the 1st of March,—the day +following that on which Miss Demolines had written her note,—the +easel was put up and the canvas was placed on it in Mrs Broughton's +room. Mrs Broughton and Clara were both there, and when they had seen +the outlines as far as it had been drawn, they proceeded to make +arrangements for their future operations. The period of work was to +begin always at eleven, and was to be continued for an hour and a +half or for two hours on the days on which they met. I fear that +there was a little improper scheming in this against the two persons +whom the ladies were bound to obey. Mr Dobbs Broughton invariably +left his house soon after ten in the morning. It would sometimes +happen, though not frequently, that he returned home early in the +day,—at four perhaps, or even before that; and should he chance to +do so while the picture was going on, he would catch them at their +work if the work were postponed till after luncheon. And then again, +Mrs Van Siever would often go out in the morning, and when she did +so, would always go without her daughter. On such occasions she went +into the City, or to other resorts of business, at which, in some +manner quite unintelligible to her daughter, she looked after her +money. But when she did not go out in the morning, she did go out in +the afternoon, and she would then require her daughter's company. +There was some place to which she always went of a Friday morning, +and at which she stayed for two or three hours. Friday therefore was +a fitting day on which to begin the work at Mrs Broughton's house. +All this was explained between the three conspirators. Mrs Dobbs +Broughton declared that if she entertained the slightest idea that +her husband would object to the painting of the picture in her room, +nothing on earth would induce her to lend her countenance to it; but +yet it might be well not to tell him just at first, perhaps not till +the sittings were over,—perhaps not till the picture was finished; +as, otherwise, tidings of the picture might get round to ears which +were not intended to hear it. "Poor dear Dobbs is so careless with a +secret." Miss Van Siever explained her motives in a very different +way. "I know mamma would not let me do it if she knew it; and +therefore I shall not tell her." "My dear Clara," said Mrs Broughton +with a smile "you are so outspoken!" "And why not?" said Miss Van +Siever. "I am old enough to judge for myself. If mamma does not want +to be deceived, she ought not to treat me like a child. Of course +she'll find it out sooner or later; but I don't care about that." +Conway Dalrymple said nothing as the two ladies were thus excusing +themselves. "How delightful it must be not to have a master," said +Mrs Broughton, addressing him. "But then a man has to work for his +own bread," said he. "I suppose it comes about equal in the long +run."</p> + +<p>Very little drawing or painting was done on that day. In the first +place it was necessary that the question of costume should be +settled, and both Mrs Broughton and the artist had much to say on +that subject. It was considered proper that Jael should be dressed as +a Jewess, and there came to be much question how Jewesses dressed +themselves in those very early days. Mrs Broughton had prepared her +jewels and raiment of many colours, but the painter declared that the +wife of Heber the Kenite would have no jewels. But when Mrs Broughton +discovered from her Bible that Heber had been connected by family +ties with Moses, she was more than ever sure that Heber's wife would +have in her tent much of the spoilings of the Egyptians. And when +Clara Van Siever suggested that at any rate she would not have worn +them in a time of confusion when soldiers were loose, flying about +the country, Mrs Broughton was quite confident that she would have +put them on before she invited the captain of the enemy's host into +her tent. The artist at last took the matter into his own hand by +declaring that Miss Van Siever would sit the subject much better +without jewels, and therefore all Mrs Broughton's gewgaws were put +back into their boxes. And then on four different times the two +ladies had to retire into Mrs Broughton's room in order that Jael +might be arrayed in various costumes,—and in each costume she had to +kneel down, taking the hammer in her hand, and holding the pointed +stick which had been prepared to do duty as the nail, upon the +forehead of a dummy Sisera. At last it was decided that her raiment +should be altogether white, and that she should wear, twisted round +her head and falling over her shoulder, a Roman silk scarf of various +colours. "Where Jael could have gotten it I don't know," said Clara. +"You may be sure that there were lots of such things among the +Egyptians," said Mrs Broughton, "and that Moses brought away all the +best for his own family."</p> + +<p>"And who is to be Sisera?" asked Mrs Broughton in one of the pauses +in their work.</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking of asking my friend John Eames to sit."</p> + +<p>"Of course we cannot sit together," said Miss Van Siever.</p> + +<p>"There's no reason why you should," said Dalrymple. "I can do the +second figure in my own room." Then there was a bargain made that +Sisera should not be a portrait. "It would never do," said Mrs +Broughton, shaking her head very gravely.</p> + +<p>Though there was really very little done to the picture on that day, +the work was commenced; and Mrs Broughton, who had at first objected +strongly to the idea, and who had said twenty times that it was quite +out of the question that it should be done her house, became very +eager in her delight about it. Nobody should know anything of the +picture till it should be exhibited. That would be best. And it +should be the picture of the year! She was a little heartbroken when +Dalrymple assured her that it could not possibly be finished for +exhibition in that May; but she came to again when he declared that +he meant to put out all his strength upon it. "There will be five or +six months' work in it," he said. "Will there, indeed? And how much +work was there in 'The Graces'?" "The Graces", as will perhaps be +remembered, was the triple portrait of Mrs Dobbs Broughton herself. +This question the artist did not answer with absolute accuracy, but +contented himself with declaring that with such a model as Mrs +Broughton the picture had been comparatively easy.</p> + +<p>Mrs Broughton, having no doubt that ultimate object of which she had +spoken to her friend Conway steadily in view, took occasion before +the sitting was over to leave the room, so that the artist might have +an opportunity of speaking a word in private to his model,—if he had +any such word to speak. And Mrs Broughton, as she did this, felt that +she was doing her duty as a wife, a friend, and a Christian. She was +doing her duty as a wife, because she was giving the clearest proof +in the world,—the clearest at any rate to herself,—that the +intimacy between herself and her friend Conway had in it nothing that +was improper. And she was doing her duty as a friend, because Clara +Van Siever, with her large expectations, would be an eligible wife. +And she was doing her duty as a Christian, because the whole thing +was intended to be moral. Miss Demolines had declared that her friend +Maria Clutterbuck,—as Miss Demolines delighted to call Mrs +Broughton, in memory of dear old innocent days,—had high principles; +and the reader will see that she was justified in her declaration. +"It will be better so," said Mrs Broughton, as she sat upon her bed +and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Yes; it will be better +so. There is a pang. Of course there's a pang. But it will be better +so." Acting upon this high principle, she allowed Conway Dalrymple +five minutes to say what he had to say to Clara Van Siever. Then she +allowed herself to indulge in some very savage feelings in reference +to her husband,—accusing her husband in her thoughts of great +cruelty,—nay, of brutality, because of certain sharp words that he +had said as to Conway Dalrymple. "But of course he can't understand," +said Mrs Broughton to herself. "How is it to be expected that he +should understand?"</p> + +<p>But she allowed her friend on this occasion only five minutes, +thinking probably that so much time might suffice. A woman, when she +is jealous, is apt to attribute to the other woman with whom her +jealousy is concerned, both weakness and timidity, and to the man +both audacity and strength. A woman who has herself taken perhaps +twelve months in the winning, will think that another woman is to be +won in five minutes. It is not to be supposed that Mrs Dobbs +Broughton had ever been won by any one except Mr Dobbs Broughton. At +least, let it not be supposed that she had ever acknowledged a spark +of love for Conway Dalymple. But nevertheless there was enough of +jealousy in her present mood to make her think poorly of Miss Van +Siever's capacity for standing a siege against the artist's +eloquence. Otherwise, having left the two together with the object +which she had acknowledged to herself, she would hardly have returned +to them, after so short an interval.</p> + +<p>"I hope you won't dislike the trouble of all this?" said Dalrymple to +his model, as soon as Mrs Broughton was gone.</p> + +<p>"I cannot say that I like it very much," said Miss Van Siever.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it will be a bore;—but I hope you'll go through with +it."</p> + +<p>"I shall if I am not prevented," said Miss Van Siever. "When I've +said that I'll do a thing, I like to do it."</p> + +<p>There was a pause in the conversation which took up a considerable +portion of the five minutes. Miss Van Siever was not holding her nail +during those moments, but was sitting in a commonplace way on her +chair, while Dalrymple was scraping his palette. "I wonder what it +was that first induced you to sit?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. I took a fancy for it."</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad you did take the fancy. You'll make an excellent +model. If you won't mind posing again for a few minutes— I will not +weary you to-day. Your right arm a little more forward."</p> + +<p>"But I should tumble down."</p> + +<p>"Not if you lean well on to the nail."</p> + +<p>"But that would have woken Sisera before she had struck a blow."</p> + +<p>"Never mind that. Let us try it." Then Mrs Broughton returned, with +that pleasant feeling in her bosom of having done her duty as a wife, +a friend, and a Christian. "Mrs Broughton," continued the painter, +"just steady Miss Van Siever's shoulder with your hand; and now bring +the arm and the elbow a little more forward."</p> + +<p>"But Jael did not have a friend to help her in that way," said Miss +Van Siever.</p> + +<p>At the end of an hour and a half the two ladies retired, and Jael +disrobed herself, and Miss Van Siever put on her customary raiment. +It was agreed among them that they had commenced their work +auspiciously, and that they would meet again on the following Monday. +The artist begged to be allowed an hour to go on with his work in Mrs +Broughton's room, and the hour was conceded to him. It was understood +that he could not take the canvas backwards and forwards with him to +his own house, and he pointed out that no progress whatever could be +made, unless he were occasionally allowed some such grace as this. +Mrs Broughton doubted and hesitated, made difficulties, and lifted up +her hands in despair. "It is easy for you to say, Why not? but I know +very well why not." But at last she gave way. "Honi soit qui mal y +pense," she said; "that must be my protection." So she followed Miss +Van Siever downstairs, leaving Mr Dalrymple in possession of her +boudoir. "I shall give you just one hour," she said, "and then I +shall come and turn you out." So she went down, and, as Miss Van +Siever would not stay to lunch with her, she ate her lunch by +herself, sending a glass of sherry and a biscuit up to the poor +painter at his work.</p> + +<p>Exactly at the end of the hour she returned to him. "Now, Conway, you +must go," she said.</p> + +<p>"But why in such a hurry?"</p> + +<p>"Because I say that it must be so. When I say so, pray let that be +sufficient." But still Dalrymple went on working. "Conway," she said, +"how can you treat me with so much disdain?"</p> + +<p>"Disdain, Mrs Broughton!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, disdain. Have I not begged you to understand that I cannot +allow you to remain here, and yet you pay no attention to my wishes."</p> + +<p>"I have done now;" and he began to put his brushes and paints +together. "I suppose all these things may remain here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; they may remain. They must do so, of course. There; if you will +put the easel in the corner, with the canvas behind it, they will not +be seen if he should chance to come into the room."</p> + +<p>"He would not be angry, I suppose, if he saw them?"</p> + +<p>"There is no knowing. Men are so unreasonable. All men are, I think. +All those are whom I have had the fortune to know. Women generally +say that men are selfish. I do not complain so much that they are +selfish as that they are thoughtless. They are headstrong and do not +look forward to results. Now you,—I do not think you would willingly +do me an injury?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think I would."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you would not;—but yet you would forget to save me from +one."</p> + +<p>"What injury?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind. I am not thinking of anything in particular. From +myself, for instance. But we will not talk about that. That way +madness lies. Tell me, Conway;—what do you think of Clara Van +Siever?"</p> + +<p>"She is very handsome, certainly."</p> + +<p>"And clever?"</p> + +<p>"Decidedly clever. I should think she has a temper of her own."</p> + +<p>"What woman is there worth a straw that has not? If Clara Van Siever +were ill-used, she would resent it. I do not doubt that for a moment. +I should not like to be the man who would do it."</p> + +<p>"Nor I, either," said Conway.</p> + +<p>"But there is plenty of feminine softness in that character, if she +were treated with love and kindness. Conway, if you will take my +advice you will ask Clara Van Siever to be your wife. But perhaps you +have already."</p> + +<p>"Who; I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; you."</p> + +<p>"I have not done it yet, certainly, Mrs Broughton."</p> + +<p>"And why should you not do it?"</p> + +<p>"There are two or three reasons;—but perhaps none of any great +importance. Do you know of none, Mrs Broughton?"</p> + +<p>"I know of none," said Mrs Broughton in a very serious,—in almost a +tragic tone;—"of none that should weigh for a moment. As far as I am +concerned, nothing would give me more pleasure."</p> + +<p>"That is so kind of you!"</p> + +<p>"I mean to be kind. I do, indeed, Conway. I know it will be better +for you that you should be settled,—very much better. And it will be +better for me. I do not mind admitting that;—though in saying so I +trust greatly to your generosity to interpret my words properly."</p> + +<p>"I shall not flatter myself, if you mean that."</p> + +<p>"There is no question of flattery, Conway. The question is simply of +truth and prudence. Do you not know that it would be better that you +should be married?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless a certain gentleman were to die first," said Conway +Dalrymple, as he deposited the last of his painting paraphernalia in +the recess which had been prepared for them by Mrs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"Conway, how can you speak in that wicked, wicked way!"</p> + +<p>"I can assure that I do not wish the gentleman in question the +slightest harm in the world. If his welfare depended on me, he should +be as safe as the Bank of England."</p> + +<p>"And you will not take my advice?"</p> + +<p>"What advice?"</p> + +<p>"About Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs Broughton, matrimony is a very important thing."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it is;—oh, who can say how important! There was a time, +Conway, when I thought you had given your heart to Madalina +Demolines."</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid!"</p> + +<p>"And I grieved, because I thought that she was not worthy of you."</p> + +<p>"There was never anything in that, Mrs Broughton."</p> + +<p>"She thought that there was. At any rate, she said so. I know that +for certain. She told me so herself. But let that pass. Clara Van +Siever is in every respect very different from Madalina. Clara, I +think, is worthy of you. And Conway,—of course it is not for me to +dictate to you; but this I must tell +you<span class="nowrap">—"</span> Then she paused, as +though she did not know how to finish her sentence.</p> + +<p>"What must you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you nothing more. If you cannot understand what I have +said, you must be more dull of comprehension than I believe you to +be. Now go. Why are you not gone this half-hour?"</p> + +<p>"How could I go while you were giving me all this good advice?"</p> + +<p>"I have not asked you to stay. Go now, at any rate. And, remember, +Conway, if this picture is to go on, I will not have you remaining +here after the work is done. Will you remember that?" And she held +him by the hand while he declared that he would remember it.</p> + +<p>Mrs Dobbs Broughton was no more in love with Conway Dalrymple than +she was in love with King Charles on horseback at Charing Cross. And, +over and beyond the protection which came to her in the course of +nature from unimpassioned feelings in this special phase of her +life,—and indeed, I may say, in every phase of her life,—it must be +acknowledged on her behalf that she did enjoy that protection which +comes from what we call principle,—though the principle was not +perhaps very high of its kind. Madalina Demolines had been right when +she talked of her friend Maria's principles. Dobbs Broughton had been +so far lucky in that jump in the dark which he had made in taking a +wife to himself, that he had not fallen upon a really vicious woman, +or upon a woman of strong feeling. If it had come to be the lot of +Mrs Dobbs Broughton to have six hours' work to do every day of her +life, I think that the work would have been done badly, but that it +would have kept her free from all danger. As it was she had nothing +to do. She had no child. She was not given to much reading. She could +not sit with a needle in her hand all day. She had no aptitude for +May meetings, or the excitement of charitable good works. Life with +her was very dull, and she found no amusement within her reach so +easy and so pleasant as the amusement of pretending to be in love. If +all that she did and all that she said could only have been taken for +its worth and for nothing more, by the different persons concerned, +there was very little in it to flatter Mr Dalrymple or to give cause +for tribulation to Mr Broughton. She probably cared but little for +either of them. She was one of those women to whom it is not given by +nature to care very much for anybody. But, of the two, she certainly +cared the most for Mr Dobbs Broughton,—because Mr Dobbs Broughton +belonged to her. As to leaving Mr Dobbs Broughton's house, and +putting herself into the hands of another man,—no Imogen of a wife +was ever less likely to take a step so wicked, so dangerous, and so +generally disagreeable to all the parties concerned.</p> + +<p>But Conway Dalrymple,—though now and again he had got a side glance +at her true character with clear-seeing eyes,—did allow himself to +be flattered and deceived. He knew that she was foolish and ignorant, +and that she often talked wonderful nonsense. He knew also that she +was continually contradicting herself,—as when she would strenuously +beg him to leave her, while she would continue to talk to him in a +strain that prevented the possibility of his going. But, +nevertheless, he was flattered, and he did believe that she loved +him. As to his love for her,—he knew very well that it amounted to +nothing. Now and again, perhaps twice a week, if he saw her as often, +he would say something which would imply a declaration of affection. +He felt that as much as that was expected from him, and that he ought +not to hope to get off cheaper. And now that this little play was +going on about Miss Van Siever, he did think that Mrs Dobbs Broughton +was doing her very best to overcome an unfortunate attachment. It is +so gratifying to a young man's feelings to suppose that another man's +wife has conceived an unfortunate attachment for him! Conway +Dalrymple ought not to have been fooled by such a woman; but I fear +that he was fooled by her.</p> + +<p>As he returned home to-day from Mrs Broughton's house to his own +lodgings he rambled out for a while into Kensington Gardens, and +thought of his position seriously. "I don't see why I should not +marry her," he said to himself, thinking of course of Miss Van +Siever. "If Maria is not in earnest it is not my fault. And it would +be my wish that she should be in earnest. If I suppose her to be so, +and take her at her word, she can have no right to quarrel with me. +Poor Maria! At any rate it will be better for her, for no good can +come of this kind of thing. And, by heavens, with a woman like that, +of strong feelings, one never knows what may happen." And then he +thought of the condition he would be in, if he were to find her some +fine day in his own rooms, and if she were to tell him that she could +not go home again, and that she meant to remain with him!</p> + +<p>In the meantime Mrs Dobbs Broughton has gone down into her own +drawing-room, had tucked herself up on the sofa, and had fallen fast +asleep.</p> + + +<p><a name="c39" id="c39"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX</h3> +<h3>A New Flirtation<br /> </h3> + + +<p>John Eames sat at his office on the day after his return to London, +and answered the various letters which he had found waiting for him +at his lodgings on the previous evening. To Miss Demolines he had +already written from his club, a single line, which he considered to +be appropriate to the mysterious necessities of the occasion. "I will +be with you at a quarter to six to-morrow.—J. E. Just returned." +There was not another word; and as he scrawled it at one of the club +tables while two or three men were talking to him, he felt rather +proud of his correspondence. "It was capital fun," he said; "and +after all,"—the "all" on this occasion being Lily Dale, and the +sadness of his disappointment at Allington,—"after all, let a fellow +be ever so down in the mouth, a little amusement should do him good." +And he reflected further that the more a fellow be "down in the +mouth," the more good the amusement would do him. He sent off his +note, therefore, with some little inward rejoicing,—and a word or +two also of spoken rejoicing. "What fun women are sometimes," he said +to one of his friends,—a friend with whom he was very intimate, +calling him always Fred, and slapping his back, but whom he never by +any chance saw out of his club.</p> + +<p>"What's up now, Johnny? Some good fortune?"</p> + +<p>"Good fortune, no. I never have good fortune of that kind. But I've +got hold of a young woman,—or rather a young woman has got hold of +me, who insists on having a mystery with me. In the mystery itself +there is not the slightest interest. But the mysteriousness of it is +charming. I have just written to her, three words to settle an +appointment for to-morrow. We don't sign our names lest the +Postmaster-General should find out all about it."</p> + +<p>"Is she pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—she isn't ugly. She has just enough of good looks to make the +sort of thing pass off pleasantly. A mystery with a downright ugly +young woman would be unpleasant."</p> + +<p>After this fashion the note from Miss Demolines had been received, +and answered at once, but the other letters remained in his pocket +till he reached his office on the following morning. Sir Raffle had +begged him to be there at half-past nine. This he had sworn he would +not do; but he did seat himself in his room at ten minutes before +ten, finding of course the whole building untenanted at that early +hour,—that unearthly hour, as Johnny called it himself. "I shouldn't +wonder if he really is here this morning," Johnny said, as he entered +the building, "just that he may have the opportunity of jumping on +me." But Sir Raffle was not there, and then Johnny began to abuse Sir +Raffle. "If I ever come here early to meet him again, because he says +he means to be here himself, I hope I may be—blessed." On that +especial morning it was twelve before Sir Raffle made his appearance, +and Johnny avenged himself,—I regret to have to tell it,—by a fib. +That Sir Raffle fibbed first, was no valid excuse whatever for Eames.</p> + +<p>"I've been at it ever since six o'clock," said Sir Raffle.</p> + +<p>"At what?" said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Work, to be sure;—and very hard work too. I believe the Chancellor +of the Exchequer thinks that he can call upon me to any extent that +he pleases;—just any extent that he pleases. He doesn't give me +credit for a desire to have a single hour to myself."</p> + +<p>"What would he do, Sir Raffle, if you were to get ill, or wear +yourself out?"</p> + +<p>"He knows I'm not one of the wearing-out sort. You got my note last +night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I got your note."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry that I troubled you; but I couldn't help it. I didn't +expect to get a box full of papers at eleven o'clock last night."</p> + +<p>"You didn't put me out, Sir Raffle; I happened to have business of my +own which prevented the possibility of my being here early."</p> + +<p>This was the way in which John Eames avenged himself. Sir Raffle +turned his face upon his private secretary, and his face was very +black. Johnny bore the gaze without dropping an eyelid. "I'm not +going to stand it, and he may as well know that at once," Johnny said +to one of his friends in the office afterwards. "If he ever wants +anything really done, I'll do it;—though it should take me twelve +hours at a stretch. But I'm not going to pretend to believe all the +lies he tells me about the Chancellor of the Exchequer. If that is to +be part of the private secretary's business, he had better get +somebody else." But now Sir Raffle was very angry, and his +countenance was full of wrath as he looked down upon his subordinate +minister. "If I had come here, Mr Eames, and had found you absent, I +should have been very much annoyed, very much annoyed indeed, after +having written as I did."</p> + +<p>"You would have found me absent at the hour you named. As I wasn't +here then, I think it's only fair to say so."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you begrudge your time to the service, Mr Eames."</p> + +<p>"I do begrudge it when the service doesn't want it."</p> + +<p>"At your age, Mr Eames, that's not for you to judge. If I had acted +in that way when I was young I should never have filled the position +I now hold. I always remembered in those days that as I was the hand +and not the head, I was bound to hold myself in readiness whether +work might be required from me or not."</p> + +<p>"If I'm wanted as hand now, Sir Raffle, I'm ready."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well;—but why were you not here at the hour I +named?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Sir Raffle, I cannot say that the Chancellor of the Exchequer +detained me;—but there was business. As I've been here for the last +two hours, I am happy to think that in this instance the public +service will not have suffered from my disobedience."</p> + +<p>Sir Raffle was still standing with his hat on, and with his back to +the fire, and his countenance was full of wrath. It was on his tongue +to tell Johnny that he had better return to his former work in the +outer office. He greatly wanted the comfort of a private secretary +who would believe in him,—or at least pretend to believe in him. +There are men who, though they have not sense enough to be true, have +nevertheless sense enough to know that they cannot expect to be +really believed in by those who are near enough to them to know them. +Sir Raffle Buffle was such a one. He would have greatly delighted in +the services of some one who would trust him implicitly,—of some +young man who would really believe all that he said of himself and of +the Chancellor of the Exchequer; but he was wise enough to perceive +that no such young man was to be had; or that any such young +man,—could such a one be found,—would be absolutely useless for any +purposes of work. He knew himself to be a liar whom nobody trusted. +And he knew himself also to be a bully,—though he could not think so +low of himself as to believe that he was a bully whom nobody feared. +A private secretary was at the least bound to pretend to believe in +him. There is a decency in such things, and that decency John Eames +did not observe. He thought that he must get rid of John Eames, in +spite of certain attractions which belonged to Johnny's appearance +and general manners, and social standing, and reputed wealth. But it +would not be wise to punish a man on the spot for breaking an +appointment which he himself had not kept, and therefore he would +wait for another opportunity. "You had better go to your own room +now," he said. "I am engaged on a matter connected with the Treasury, +in which I will not ask for your assistance." He knew that Eames +would not believe a word as to what he said about the Treasury,—not +even some very trifling base of truth which did exist; but the boast +gave him an opportunity of putting an end to the interview after his +own fashion. Then John Eames went to his own room and answered the +letters which he had in his pocket.</p> + +<p>To the club dinner he would not go. "What's the use of paying two +guineas for a dinner with fellows you see every day of your life?" he +said. To Lady Glencora's he would go, and he wrote a line to his +friend Dalrymple proposing that they should go together. And he would +dine with his cousin Toogood in Tavistock Square. "One meets the +queerest people in the world there," he said; "but Tommy Toogood is +such a good fellow himself!" After that he had his lunch. Then he +read the paper, and before he went away he wrote a dozen or two of +private notes, presenting Sir Raffle's compliments right and left, +and giving in no one note a single word of information that could be +of any use to any person. Having thus earned his salary by half-past +four o'clock he got into a hansom cab and had himself driven to +Porchester Terrace. Miss Demolines was at home, of course, and he +soon found himself closeted with that interesting young woman.</p> + +<p>"I thought you never would have come." These were the first words she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Demolines, you must not forget that I have my bread to +earn."</p> + +<p>"Fiddlestick—bread! As if I didn't know that you can get away from +your office when you choose."</p> + +<p>"But, indeed, I cannot."</p> + +<p>"What is there to prevent you, Mr Eames?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not tied up like a dog, certainly; but who do you suppose will +do my work if I do not do it myself? It is a fact, though the world +does not believe it, that men in public offices have got something to +do."</p> + +<p>"Now you are laughing at me, I know; but you are welcome, if you like +it. It's the way of the world just at present that ladies should +submit to that sort of thing from gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"What sort of thing, Miss Demolines?"</p> + +<p>"Chaff, as you call it. Courtesy is out of fashion, and gallantry has +come to signify quite a different kind of thing from what it used to +do."</p> + +<p>"The Sir Charles Grandison business is done and gone. That's what you +mean, I suppose? Don't you think we should find it very heavy if we +tried to get it back again?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to ask you to be a Sir Charles Grandison, Mr Eames. +But never mind all that now. Do you know that that girl has +absolutely had her first sitting for the picture?"</p> + +<p>"Has she, indeed?"</p> + +<p>"She has. You may take my word for it. I know it as a fact. What a +fool that young man is!"</p> + +<p>"Which young man?"</p> + +<p>"Which young man! Conway Dalrymple to be sure. Artists are always +weak. Of all men in the world they are the most subject to flattery +from women; and we all know that Conway Dalrymple is very vain."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I didn't know it," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do. You must know it. When a man goes about in a purple +velvet coat of course he is vain."</p> + +<p>"I certainly cannot defend a purple velvet coat."</p> + +<p>"That is what he wore when this girl sat to him this morning."</p> + +<p>"This morning was it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, this morning. They little think that they can do nothing +without my knowing it. He was there for nearly four hours, and she +was dressed up in a white robe as Jael, with a turban on her head. +Jael, indeed! I call it very improper, and I am quite astonished that +Maria Clutterbuck should have lent herself to such a piece of work. +That Maria was never very wise, of course we all know; but I thought +that she had principle enough to have kept her from this kind of +thing."</p> + +<p>"It's her fevered existence," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"That is just it. She must have excitement. It is like dram-drinking. +And then, you know, they are always living in the crater of a +volcano."</p> + +<p>"Who are living in the crater of a volcano?"</p> + +<p>"The Dobbs Broughtons are. Of course they are. There is no saying +what day a smash may come. These City people get so used to it that +they enjoy it. The risk is everything to them."</p> + +<p>"They like to have a little certainty behind the risk, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid there is very little that's certain with Dobbs Broughton. +But about this picture, Mr Eames. I look to you to assist me there. +It must be put a stop to. As to that I am determined. It must be—put +a—stop to." And as Miss Demolines repeated these last words with a +tremendous emphasis she leant with both her elbows on a little table +that stood between her and her visitor, and looked with all her eyes +into his face. "I do hope that you agree with me in that," said she.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I do not see the harm of the picture," said he.</p> + +<p>"You do not?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, no. Why should not Dalrymple paint Miss Van Siever as well +as any other lady? It is his special business to paint ladies."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Mr Eames—" And now Miss Demolines, as she spoke, drew +her own seat closer to that of her companion and pushed away the +little table. "Do you suppose that Conway Dalrymple, in the usual way +of his business, paints pictures of young ladies, of which their +mothers know nothing? Do you suppose that he paints them in ladies' +rooms without their husbands' knowledge? And in the common way of his +business does he not expect to be paid for his pictures?"</p> + +<p>"But what is all that to you and me, Miss Demolines?"</p> + +<p>"Is the welfare of your friend nothing to you? Would you like to see +him become the victim of the artifice of such a girl as Clara Van +Siever?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I think he is very well able to take care of himself."</p> + +<p>"And would you wish to see that poor creature's domestic hearth +ruined and broken up?"</p> + +<p>"Which poor creature?"</p> + +<p>"Dobbs Broughton, to be sure."</p> + +<p>"I can't pretend that I care very much for Dobbs Broughton," said +John Eames; "and you see I know so little about his domestic hearth."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr Eames!"</p> + +<p>"Besides, her principles will pull her through. You told me yourself +that Mrs Broughton has high principles."</p> + +<p>"God forbid that I should say a word against Maria Clutterbuck," said +Miss Demolines, fervently. "Maria Clutterbuck was my early friend, +and though words have been spoken which never should have been +spoken, and though things have been done which never should have been +dreamed of, still I will not desert Maria Clutterbuck in her hour of +need. No, never!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you're what one may call a trump to your friends, Miss +Demolines."</p> + +<p>"I have always endeavoured to be so, and always shall. You will find +me so; that is if you and I ever become intimate enough to feel that +sort of friendship."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing on earth I should like better," said Johnny. As soon +as the words were out of his mouth he felt ashamed of himself. He +knew that he did not in truth desire the friendship of Miss +Demolines, and that any friendship with such a one would mean +something different from friendship,—something that would be an +injury to Lily Dale. A week had hardly passed since he had sworn a +life's constancy to Lily Dale,—had sworn it, not to her only, but to +himself; and now he was giving way to a flirtation with this woman, +not because he liked it himself, but because he was too weak to keep +out of it.</p> + +<p>"If that is true—," said Miss Demolines.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; it's quite true," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Then you must earn my friendship by doing what I ask of you. That +picture must not be painted. You must tell Conway Dalrymple as his +friend that he must cease to carry on such an intrigue in another +man's house."</p> + +<p>"You would hardly call painting a picture an intrigue; would you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I would when it's kept a secret from the husband by the +wife,—and from the mother by the daughter. If it cannot be stopped +in any other way, I must tell Mrs Van Siever;—I must, indeed. I have +such an abhorrence of the old woman, that I could not bring myself to +speak to her,—but I should write to her. That's what I should do."</p> + +<p>"But what's the reason? You might as well tell me the real reason." +Had Miss Demolines been christened Mary, or Fanny, or Jane, I think +that John Eames would now have called her by either of those names; +but Madalina was such a mouthful that he could not bring himself to +use it at once. He had heard that among her intimates she was called +Maddy. He had an idea that he had heard Dalrymple in old times talk +of her as Maddy Mullins, and just at this moment the idea was not +pleasant to him; at any rate he could not call her Maddy as yet. "How +am I to help you," he said, "unless I know all about it?"</p> + +<p>"I hate that girl like poison!" said Miss Demolines, confidentially, +drawing herself very near to Johnny as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"But what has she done?"</p> + +<p>"What has she done? I can't tell you what she has done. I could not +demean myself by repeating it. Of course we all know what she wants. +She wants to catch Conway Dalrymple. That's as plain as anything can +be. Not that I care about that."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. It's nothing to me. I have known Mr Dalrymple, no +doubt, for a year or two, and I should be sorry to see a young man +who has his good points sacrificed in that sort of way. But it is +mere acquaintance between Mr Dalrymple and me, and of course I cannot +interfere."</p> + +<p>"She'll have a lot of money, you know."</p> + +<p>"He thinks so; does he? I suppose that is what Maria has told him. +Oh, Mr Eames, you don't know the meanness of women; you don't, +indeed. Men are so much more noble."</p> + +<p>"Are they, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Than some women. I see women doing things that really disgust me; I +do indeed;—things that I wouldn't do myself, were it ever +so;—striving to catch men in every possible way, and for such +purposes! I wouldn't have believed it of Maria Clutterbuck. I +wouldn't indeed. However, I will never say a word against her, +because she has been my friend. Nothing shall ever induce me."</p> + +<p>John Eames before he left Porchester Terrace, had at last succeeded +in calling his fair friend Madalina, and had promised that he would +endeavour to open the artist's eyes to the folly of painting his +picture in Broughton's house without Broughton's knowledge.</p> + + +<p><a name="c40" id="c40"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XL</h3> +<h3>Mr Toogood's Ideas About Society<br /> </h3> + + +<p>A day or two after the interview which was described in the last +chapter John Eames dined with his uncle Mr Thomas Toogood, in +Tavistock Square. He was in the habit of doing this about once a +month, and was a great favourite both with his cousins and with their +mother. Mr Toogood did not give dinner-parties; always begging those +whom he asked to enjoy his hospitality, to take pot luck, and telling +young men whom he could treat with familiarity,—such as his +nephew,—that if they wanted to be regaled <i>à la Russe</i> they must not +come to Number 75, Tavistock Square. "A leg of mutton and trimmings; +that will be about the outside of it," he would say; but he would add +in a whisper,—"and a glass of port such as you don't get every day +of your life." Polly and Lucy Toogood were pretty girls, and merry +withal, and certain young men were well contented to accept the +attorney's invitation,—whether attracted by the promised leg of +mutton, or the port wine, or the young ladies, I will not attempt to +say. But it had so happened that one young man, a clerk from John +Eames' office, had partaken so often of the pot luck and port wine +that Polly Toogood had conquered him by her charms, and he was now a +slave, waiting an appropriate time for matrimonial sacrifice. William +Summerkin was the young man's name; and as it was known that Mr +Summerkin was to inherit a fortune amounting to five thousand pounds +from his maiden aunt, it was considered that Polly Toogood was not +doing amiss. "I'll give you three hundred pounds, my boy, just to put +a few sheets on the beds," said Toogood the father, "and when the old +birds are both dead she'll have a thousand pounds out of the nest. +That's the extent of Polly's fortune;—so now you know." Summerkin +was, however, quite contented to have his own money settled on his +darling Polly, and the whole thing was looked at with pleasant and +propitious eyes by the Toogood connexion.</p> + +<p>When John Eames entered the drawing-room Summerkin and Polly were +already there. Summerkin blushed up to his eyes, of course, but Polly +sat as demurely as though she had been accustomed to having lovers +all her life. "Mamma will be down almost immediately, John," said +Polly as soon as the first greetings were over, "and papa has come +in, I know."</p> + +<p>"Summerkin," said Johnny, "I'm afraid you left the office before four +o'clock."</p> + +<p>"No, I did not," said Summerkin. "I deny it."</p> + +<p>"Polly," said her cousin, "you should keep him in better order. He +will certainly come to grief if he goes on like this. I suppose you +could do without him for half an hour."</p> + +<p>"I don't want him, I can assure you," said Polly.</p> + +<p>"I have only been here just five minutes," said Summerkin, "and I +came because Mrs Toogood asked me to do a commission."</p> + +<p>"That's civil to you, Polly," said John.</p> + +<p>"It's quite as civil as I wish him to be," said Polly. "And as for +you, John, everybody knows that you're a goose, and that you always +were a goose. Isn't he always doing foolish things at the office, +William?" But as John Eames was rather a great man at the Income-tax +Office, Summerkin would not fall into his sweetheart's joke on this +subject, finding it easier and perhaps safer to twiddle the bodkins +in Polly's work-basket. Then Toogood and Mrs Toogood entered the room +together, and the lovers were able to be alone again during the +general greetings with which Johnny was welcomed.</p> + +<p>"You don't know the Silverbridge people,—do you?" asked Mr Toogood. +Eames said that he did not. He had been at Silverbridge more than +once, but did not know very much of the Silverbridgians. "Because +Walker is coming to dine here. Walker is the leading man in +Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"And what is Walker;—besides being the leading man in Silverbridge?"</p> + +<p>"He's a lawyer. Walker and Winthrop. Everybody knows Walker in +Barsetshire. I've been down at Barchester since I saw you."</p> + +<p>"Have you indeed?" said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"And I'll tell you what I've been about. You know Mr Crawley; don't +you?"</p> + +<p>"The Hogglestock clergyman that has come to grief? I don't know him +personally. He's a sort of cousin by marriage, you know."</p> + +<p>"Of course he is," said Mr Toogood. "His wife is my first-cousin, and +your mother's first-cousin. He came here to me the other day;—or +rather to the shop. I had never seen the man before in my life, and a +very queer fellow he is too. He came to me about this trouble of his, +and of course I must do what I can for him. I got myself introduced +to Walker, who has the management of the prosecution, and I asked him +to come here and dine to-day."</p> + +<p>"And what sort of fellow did you find Crawley, uncle Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Such a queer fish;—so unlike anybody else in the world."</p> + +<p>"But I suppose he did take the money?" said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to say about it. I don't indeed. If he took it he +didn't mean to steal it. I'm as sure that man didn't mean to steal +twenty pounds as I ever could be of anything. Perhaps I shall get +something about it out of Walker after dinner." Then Mr Walker +entered the room. "This is very kind of you, Mr Walker; very indeed. +I take it quite as a compliment, your coming in in this sort of way. +It's just pot luck, you know, and nothing else." Mr Walker of course +assured his host that he was delighted. "Just a leg of mutton and a +bottle of old port, Mr Walker," continued Toogood. "We never get +beyond that in the way of dinner-giving; do we, Maria?"</p> + +<p>But Maria was at this moment descanting on the good luck of the +family to her nephew,—and on one special piece of good luck which +had just occurred. Mr Summerkin's maiden aunt had declared her +intention of giving up the fortune to the young people at once. She +had enough to live upon, she said, and would therefore make two +lovers happy. "And they're to be married on the first day of May," +said Lucy,—that Lucy of whom her father had boasted to Mr Crawley +that she knew Byron by heart,—"and won't that be jolly? Mamma is +going out to look for a house for them to-morrow. Fancy Polly with a +house of her own! Won't it be stunning? I wish you were going to be +married too, Johnny."</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, Lucy."</p> + +<p>"Of course I know that you are in love. I hope you are not going to +give over being in love, Johnny, because it is such fun."</p> + +<p>"Wait till you're caught yourself, my girl."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to be caught till some great swell comes this way. And +as great swells never do come into Tavistock Square I shan't have a +chance. I'll tell you what I would like; I'd like to have a +Corsair,—or else a Giaour;—I think a Giaour would be nicest. Only a +Giaour wouldn't be a Giaour here, you know. Fancy a lover 'Who +thundering comes on blackest steed, With slackened bit and hoof of +speed.' Were not those days to live in! But all that is over now, you +know, and young people take houses in Woburn Place, instead of being +locked up, or drowned, or married to a hideous monster behind a veil. +I suppose it's better as it is, for some reasons."</p> + +<p>"I think it must be more jolly, as you call it, Lucy."</p> + +<p>"I'm not quite sure. I know I'd go back and be Medora, if I could. +Mamma is always telling Polly that she must be careful about +William's dinner. But Conrad didn't care for his dinner. 'Light toil! +to cull and dress thy frugal fare! See, I have plucked the fruit that +promised best.'"</p> + +<p>"And how often do you think Conrad got drunk?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he got drunk at all. There is no reason why he should, +any more than William. Come along, and take me down to dinner. After +all, papa's leg of mutton is better than Medora's apples, when one is +as hungry as I am."</p> + +<p>The leg of mutton on this occasion consisted of soup, fish, and a bit +of roast beef, and a couple of boiled fowls. "If I had only two +children instead of twelve, Mr Walker," said the host, "I'd give you +a dinner à la Russe."</p> + +<p>"I don't begrudge Mrs Toogood a single arrow in her quiver on that +score," said Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>"People are getting to be so luxurious that one can't live up to them +at all," said Mrs Toogood. "We dined out here with some new-comers in +the square only last week. We had asked them before, and they came +quite in a quiet way,—just like this; and when we got there we found +they'd four kinds of ices after dinner!"</p> + +<p>"And not a morsel of food on the table fit to eat," said Toogood. "I +never was so poisoned in my life. As for soup,—it was just the +washings of the pastrycook's kettle next door."</p> + +<p>"And how is one to live with such people, Mr Walker?" continued Mrs +Toogood. "Of course we can't ask them back again. We can't give them +four kinds of ices."</p> + +<p>"But would that be necessary? Perhaps they haven't got twelve +children."</p> + +<p>"They haven't got any," said Toogood, triumphing; "not a chick +belonging to them. But you see one must do as other people do. I hate +anything grand. I wouldn't want more than this for myself, if +bank-notes were as plenty as curl-papers."</p> + +<p>"Nobody has any curl-papers now, papa," said Lucy.</p> + +<p>"But I can't bear to be outdone," said Mr Toogood. "I think it's very +unpleasant,—people living in that sort of way. It's all very well +telling me that I needn't live so too;—and of course I don't. I +can't afford to have four men in from the confectioner's, dressed a +sight better than myself, at ten shillings a head. I can't afford it, +and I don't do it. But the worst of it is that I suffer because other +people do it. It stands to reason that I must either be driven along +with the crowd, or else be left behind. Now, I don't like either. And +what's the end of it? Why I'm half carried away and half left +behind."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, papa, I don't think you're carried away at all," said +Lucy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am; and I'm ashamed of myself. Mr Walker, I don't dare to ask +you to drink a glass of wine with me in my own house,—that's what I +don't,—because it's the proper thing for you to wait till somebody +brings it to you, and then drink it by yourself. There is no knowing +whether I mightn't offend you." And Mr Toogood as he spoke grasped +the decanter at his elbow. Mr Walker grasped another at his elbow, +and the two attorneys took their glass of wine together.</p> + +<p>"A very queer case this is of my cousin Crawley's," said Toogood to +Walker, when the ladies had left the dining-room.</p> + +<p>"A most distressing case. I never knew anything so much talked of in +our part of the country."</p> + +<p>"He can't have been a popular man, I should say?"</p> + +<p>"No; not popular,—not in the ordinary way;—anything but that. +Nobody knew him personally before this matter came up."</p> + +<p>"But a good clergyman, probably? I'm interested in the case, of +course, as his wife is my first-cousin. You will understand, however, +that I know nothing of him. My father tried to be civil to him once, +but Crawley wouldn't have it at all. We all thought he was mad then. +I suppose he has done his duty in his parish?"</p> + +<p>"He has quarrelled with the bishop, you know,—out and out."</p> + +<p>"Has he, indeed? But I'm not sure that I think so very much about +bishops, Mr Walker."</p> + +<p>"That depends very much on the particular bishop. Some people say +ours isn't all that a bishop ought to be, while others are very fond +of him."</p> + +<p>"And Mr Crawley belongs to the former set; that's all?" said Mr +Toogood.</p> + +<p>"No, Mr Toogood; that isn't all. The worst of your cousin is that he +has an aptitude to quarrel with everybody. He is one of those men who +always think themselves to be ill-used. Now our dean, Dr Arabin, has +been his very old friend,—and as far as I can learn, a very good +friend; but it seems that Mr Crawley has done his best to quarrel +with him too."</p> + +<p>"He spoke of the dean in the highest terms to me."</p> + +<p>"He may do that,—and yet quarrel with him. He'd quarrel with his own +right hand, if he had nothing else to quarrel with. That makes the +difficulty, you see. He'll take nobody's advice. He thinks that we're +all against him."</p> + +<p>"I suppose the world has been heavy on him, Mr Walker?"</p> + +<p>"The world has been very heavy on him," said John Eames, who had now +been left free to join the conversation, Mr Summerkin having gone +away to his lady-love. "You must not judge him as you do other men."</p> + +<p>"That is just it," said Mr Walker. "And to what result will that +bring us?"</p> + +<p>"That we ought to stretch a point in his favour," said Toogood.</p> + +<p>"But why?" asked the attorney from Silverbridge. "What do we mean +when we say that one man isn't to be trusted as another? We simply +imply that he is not what we call responsible."</p> + +<p>"And I don't think Mr Crawley is responsible," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Then how can he be fit to have charge of a parish?" said Mr Walker. +"You see where the difficulty is. How it embarrasses one all round. +The amount of evidence as to the cheque is, I think, sufficient to +get a verdict in an ordinary case, and the Crown has no alternative +but so to treat it. Then his friends come forward,—and from sympathy +with his sufferings, I desire to be ranked among the number,—and +say, 'Ah, but you should spare this man, because he is not +responsible.' Were he one who filled no position requiring special +responsibility, that might be very well. His friends might undertake +to look after him, and the prosecution might perhaps be smothered. +But Mr Crawley holds a living, and if he escape he will be +triumphant,—especially triumphant over the bishop. Now, if he has +really taken this money, and if his only excuse be that he did not +know when he took it whether he was stealing or whether he was +not,—for the sake of justice that ought not to be allowed." So spoke +Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>"You think he certainly did steal the money?" said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"You have heard the evidence, no doubt?" said Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>"I don't feel quite sure about it, yet," said Mr Toogood.</p> + +<p>"Quite sure of what?" said Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>"That the cheque was dropped in his house."</p> + +<p>"It was at any rate traced to his hands."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt about that," said Toogood.</p> + +<p>"And he can't account for it," said Walker.</p> + +<p>"A man isn't bound to show where he got his money," said Johnny. +"Suppose that sovereign is marked," and Johnny produced a coin from +his pocket, "and I don't know but what it is; and suppose it proved +to have belonged to some one who lost it, and then to be traced to my +hands,—how am I to say where I got it? If I were asked, I should +simply decline to answer."</p> + +<p>"But a cheque is not a sovereign, Mr Eames," said Walker. "It is +presumed that a man can account for the possession of a cheque. It +may be that a man should have a cheque in his possession and not be +able to account for it, and should yet be open to no grave suspicion. +In such a case a jury has to judge. Here is the fact: that Mr Crawley +has the cheque, and brings it into use some considerable time after +it is drawn; and the additional fact that the drawer of the cheque +had lost it, as he thought, in Mr Crawley's house, and had looked for +it there, soon after it was drawn, and long before it was paid. A +jury must judge; but, as a lawyer, I should say that the burden of +disproof lies with Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"Did you find out anything, Mr Walker," said Toogood, "about the man +who drove Mr Soames that day?"</p> + +<p>"No,—nothing."</p> + +<p>"The trap was from 'The Dragon' at Barchester, I think?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—from 'The Dragon of Wantly'."</p> + +<p>"A respectable sort of house?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty well for that, I believe. I've heard that the people are +poor," said Walker.</p> + +<p>"Somebody told me that they'd had a queer lot about the house, and +that three or four of them left just then. I think I heard that two +or three men from the place went to New Zealand together. It just +came out in conversation while I was in the inn-yard."</p> + +<p>"I have never heard anything of it," said Walker.</p> + +<p>"I don't say that it can help us."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that it can," said Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>After that there was a pause, and Mr Toogood pushed about the old +port, and made some very stinging remarks as to the claret-drinking +propensities of the age. "Gladstone claret the most of it is, I +fancy," said Mr Toogood. "I find that port wine which my father +bought in the wood five-and-twenty years ago is good enough for me." +Mr Walker said that it was quite good enough for him, almost too +good, and that he thought that he had had enough of it. The host +threatened another bottle, and was up to draw the cork,—rather to +the satisfaction of John Eames, who liked his uncle's port,—but Mr +Walker stopped him. "Not a drop more for me," he said. "You are quite +sure?" "Quite sure." And Mr Walker moved towards the door.</p> + +<p>"It's a great pity, Mr Walker," said Toogood, going back to the old +subject, "that the dean and his wife should be away."</p> + +<p>"I understand that they will both be home before the trial," said Mr +Walker.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—but you know how very important it is to learn beforehand +exactly what your witnesses can prove and what they can't prove. And +moreover, though neither the dean nor his wife might perhaps be able +to tell us anything themselves, they might help to put us on the +proper scent. I think I'll send somebody after them. I think I will."</p> + +<p>"It would be a heavy expense, Mr Toogood."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Toogood, mournfully, thinking of the twelve children; "it +would be a heavy expense. But I never like to stick at a thing when +it ought to be done. I think I shall send a fellow after them."</p> + +<p>"I'll go," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"How can you go?"</p> + +<p>"I'll make old Snuffle give me leave."</p> + +<p>"But will that lessen the expense?" said Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, I think it will," said John, modestly.</p> + +<p>"My nephew is a rich man, Mr Walker," said Toogood.</p> + +<p>"That alters the case," said Mr Walker. And thus, before they left +the dining-room, it was settled that John Eames should be taught his +lesson and should seek both Mrs Arabin and Dr Arabin on their +travels.</p> + + +<p><a name="c41" id="c41"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLI</h3> +<h3>Grace Crawley at Home<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On the morning after his return from London Mr Crawley showed +symptoms of great fatigue, and his wife implored him to remain in +bed. But this he would not do. He would get up, and go out down to +the brickfields. He had specially bound himself,—he said, to see +that the duties of the parish did not suffer by being left in his +hands. The bishop had endeavoured to place them in other hands, but +he had persisted in retaining them. As had done so he could allow no +weariness of his own to interfere,—and especially no weariness +induced by labours undertaken on his own behalf. The day in the week +had come round on which it was his wont to visit the brickmakers, and +he would visit them. So he dragged himself out of his bed and went +forth amidst the cold storm of a harsh wet March morning. His wife +well knew when she heard his first word on that morning that one of +those terrible moods had come upon him which made her doubt whether +she ought to allow him to go anywhere alone. Latterly there had been +some improvement in his mental health. Since the day of his encounter +with the bishop and Mrs Proudie, though he had been as stubborn as +ever, he had been less apparently unhappy, less depressed in spirits. +And the journey to London had done him good. His wife had +congratulated herself on finding him able to set about his work like +another man, and he himself had experienced a renewal, if not of +hope, at any rate, of courage, which had given him a comfort which he +had recognised. His common-sense had not been very striking in his +interview with Mr Toogood, but yet he had talked more rationally then +and had given a better account of the matter in hand than could have +been expected from him for some weeks previously. But now the labour +was over, a reaction had come upon him, and he went away from his +house having hardly spoken a word to his wife after the speech which +he made about his duty to his parish.</p> + +<p>I think that at this time nobody saw clearly the working of his +mind,—not even his wife, who studied it very closely, who gave him +credit for all his high qualities, and who had gradually learned to +acknowledge to herself that she must distrust his judgment in many +things. She knew that he was good and yet weak, that he was afflicted +by false pride and supported by true pride, that his intellect was +still very bright, yet so dismally obscured on many sides as almost +to justify people in saying that he was mad. She knew that he was +almost a saint, and yet almost a castaway through vanity and hatred +of those above him. But she did not know that he knew all this of +himself also. She did not comprehend that he should be hourly telling +himself that people were calling him mad and were so calling him with +truth. It did not occur to her that he could see her insight into +him. She doubted as to the way in which he had got the cheque,—never +imagining, however, that he had wilfully stolen it;—thinking that +his mind had been so much astray as to admit of his finding it and +using it without wilful guilt,—thinking also, alas, that a man who +could so act was hardly fit for such duties as those which were +entrusted to him. But she did not dream that this was precisely his +own idea of his own state and of his own position;—that he was +always inquiring of himself whether he was not mad; whether, if mad, +he was not bound to lay down his office; that he was ever taxing +himself with improper hostility to the bishop,—never forgetting for +a moment his wrath against the bishop and the bishop's wife, still +comforting himself with his triumph over the bishop and the bishop's +wife,—but for all that, accusing himself of a heavy sin and +proposing to himself to go to the palace and there humbly to +relinquish his clerical authority. Such a course of action he was +proposing to himself, but not with any realised idea that he would so +act. He was as a man who walks along a river's bank, thinking of +suicide, calculating now best he might kill himself,—whether the +river does not offer an opportunity too good to be neglected, telling +himself that for many reasons he had better do so, suggesting to +himself that the water is pleasant and cool, and that his ears would +soon be deaf to the harsh noises of the world,—but yet knowing, or +thinking that he knows, that he never will kill himself. So it was +with Mr Crawley. Though his imagination pictured to himself the whole +scene,—how he would humble himself to the ground as he acknowledged +his unfitness, how he would endure the small-voiced triumph of the +little bishop, how, from the abjectness of his own humility, even +from the ground on which he would be crouching, he would rebuke the +loud-mouthed triumph of the bishop's wife; though there was no touch +wanting to the picture which he thus drew,—he did not really propose +to himself to commit this professional suicide. His wife, too, had +considered whether it might be in truth becoming that he should give +up his clerical duties, at any rate for a while; but she had never +thought that the idea was present to his mind also.</p> + +<p>Mr Toogood had told him that people would say that he was mad; and Mr +Toogood had looked at him, when he declared for the second time that +he had no knowledge whence the cheque had come to him, as though his +words were to be regarded as the words of some sick child. "Mad!" he +said to himself, as he walked home from the station that night. +"Well; yes; and what if I am mad? When I think of all that I have +endured my wonder is that I should not have been mad sooner." And +then he prayed,—yes, prayed, that in his madness the Devil might not +be too strong for him, and that he might be preserved from some +terrible sin of murder or violence. What, if the idea should come to +him in his madness that it would be well for him to slay his wife and +his children? Only that was wanting to make him of all men the most +unfortunate.</p> + +<p>He went down among the brickmakers on the following morning, leaving +the house almost without a morsel of food, and he remained at Hoggle +End for the greater part of the day. There were sick persons there +with whom he prayed, and then he sat talking with rough men while +they ate their dinners, and he read passages from the Bible to women +while they washed their husbands' clothes. And for a while he sat +with a little girl in his lap teaching the child her alphabet. If it +were possible for him he would do his duty. He would spare himself in +nothing, though he might suffer even to fainting. And on this +occasion he did suffer,—almost to fainting, for as he returned home +in the afternoon he was forced to lean from time to time against the +banks on the road-side, while the cold sweat of weakness trickled +down his face, in order that he might recover strength to go on a few +yards. But he would persevere. If God would but leave to him mind +enough for his work, he would go on. No personal suffering should +deter him. He told himself that there had been men in the world whose +sufferings were sharper even than his own. Of what sort had been the +life of the man who had stood for years at the top of a pillar? But +then the man on the pillar had been honoured by all around him. And +thus, though he had thought of the man on the pillar to encourage +himself by remembering how lamentable had been that man's sufferings, +he came to reflect that after all his own sufferings were perhaps +keener than those of the man on the pillar.</p> + +<p>When he reached home, he was very ill. There was no doubt about it +then. He staggered to his arm-chair, and stared at his wife first, +then smiled at her with a ghastly smile. He trembled all over, and +when food was brought to him he could not eat it. Early on the next +morning the doctor was by his bedside, and before that evening came +he was delirious. He had been at intervals in this state for nearly +two days, when Mrs Crawley wrote to Grace, and though she had +restrained herself telling everything, she had written with +sufficient strength to bring Grace at once to her father's bedside.</p> + +<p>He was not so ill when Grace arrived but that he knew her, and he +seemed to receive some comfort from her coming. Before she had been +in the house an hour she was reading Greek to him, and there was no +wandering in his mind as to the due emphasis to be given to the +plaints of the injured heroines, or as to the proper meaning of the +choruses. And as he lay with his head half buried in the pillows, he +shouted out long passages, lines from tragic plays by the score, and +for a while seemed to have all the enjoyment of a dear old pleasure +placed newly within his reach. But he tired of this after a while, +and then, having looked round to see that his wife was not in the +room, he began to talk of himself.</p> + +<p>"So you have been to Allington, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa."</p> + +<p>"Is it a pretty place?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa;—very pretty."</p> + +<p>"And they were good to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa;—very good."</p> + +<p>"Had they heard anything there about—me; of this trial that is to +come on?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa; they had heard of it."</p> + +<p>"And what did they say? You need not think that you will shock me by +telling me. They cannot say worse there than people have said +here,—or think worse."</p> + +<p>"They don't think at all badly of you at Allington, papa."</p> + +<p>"But they must think badly of me if the magistrates were right."</p> + +<p>"They suppose that there has been a mistake;—as we all think."</p> + +<p>"They do not try men at the assizes for mistakes."</p> + +<p>"That you have been mistaken, I mean;—and the magistrates mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Both cannot have been mistaken, Grace."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how to explain myself, papa; but we all know that it is +very sad, and are quite sure that you have never meant for one moment +to do anything that was wrong."</p> + +<p>"But people when they are,—you know what I mean, Grace; when they +are not themselves,—do things that are wrong without meaning it." +Then he paused, while she remained standing by him with her hand on +the back of his. She was looking at his face, which had been turned +towards her while they were reading together, but which now was so +far moved that she knew that his eyes could not be fixed upon hers. +"Of course if the bishop orders it, it shall be so," he said. "It is +quite enough for me that he is the bishop."</p> + +<p>"What has the bishop ordered, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all. It is she who does it. He has given no opinion about +it. Of course not. He has none to give. It is the woman. You go and +tell her from me that in such a matter I will not obey the word of +any woman living. Go at once, when I tell you."</p> + +<p>Then she knew that her father's mind was wandering, and she knelt +down by the bedside, still holding his hand.</p> + +<p>"Grace," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa, I am here."</p> + +<p>"Why do you not do what I tell you?" And he sat upright in his bed. +"I suppose you are afraid of the woman?"</p> + +<p>"I should be afraid of her, dear papa."</p> + +<p>"I was not afraid of her. When she spoke to me, I would have nothing +to say to her;—not a word;—not a word;—not a word." As he said +this, he waved his hands about. "But as for him,—if it must be, it +must. I know I'm not fit for it. Of course I am not. Who is? But what +has he ever done that he should be a dean? I beat him at everything; +almost everything. He got the Newdigate, and that was about all. Upon +my word I think that was all."</p> + +<p>"But Dr Arabin loves you truly, dear papa."</p> + +<p>"Love me! psha! Does he ever come here to tea, as he used to do? No! +I remember buttering toast for him down on my knees before the fire, +because he liked it,—and keeping all the cream for him. He should +have had my heart's blood if he wanted it. But now;—look at his +books, Grace. It's the outside of them he cares for. They are all +gilt, but I doubt if he ever reads. As for her,—I will not allow any +woman to tell me my duty. No;—by my Maker; not even your mother, who +is the best of women. And as for her, with her little husband +dangling at her apron-strings, as a call-whistle to be blown into +when she pleases,—that she should dare to teach me my duty! No! The +men in the jury-box may decide how they will. If they can believe a +plain story, let them! If not,—let them do as they please. I am +ready to bear it all."</p> + +<p>"Dear papa, you are tired. Will you not try to sleep?"</p> + +<p>"Tell Mrs Proudie what I say; and as for Arabin's money, I took it. I +know I took it. What would you have had me do? Shall I—see them—all +starve?" Then he fell back upon his bed and did sleep.</p> + +<p>The next day he was better, and insisted upon getting out of bed, and +on sitting in his old arm-chair over the fire. And the Greek books +were again had out; and Grace, not at all unwillingly, was put +through her facings. "If you don't take care, my dear," he said, +"Jane will beat you yet. She understands the force of the verbs +better than you do."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad that she is doing so well, papa. I am sure I shall +not begrudge her her superiority."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you should begrudge it her!" Jane was sitting by at the +time, and the two sisters were holding each other by the hand. +"Always to be best;—always to be in advance of others. That should +be your motto."</p> + +<p>"But we can't both be best, papa," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"You can both strive to be best. But Grace has the better voice. I +remember when I knew the whole of the Antigone by heart. You girls +should see which can learn it first."</p> + +<p>"It would take such a long time," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"You are young, and what can you do better with your leisure hours? +Fie, Jane! I did not expect that from you. When I was learning it I +had eight or nine pupils, and read an hour a day with each of them. +But I think that nobody works now as they used to work then. Where is +your mamma? Tell her I think I could get out as far as Mrs Cox's, if +she would help me to dress." Soon after this he was in bed again, and +his head was wandering; but still they knew that he was better than +he had been.</p> + +<p>"You are more of a comfort to your papa than I can be," said Mrs +Crawley to her eldest daughter that night as they sat together, when +everybody else was in bed.</p> + +<p>"Do not say that, mamma. Papa does not think so."</p> + +<p>"I cannot read Greek plays to him as you can do. I can only nurse him +in his illness and endeavour to do my duty. Do you know, Grace, that +I am beginning to fear that he half doubts me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"That he half doubts me, and is half afraid of me. He does not think +as he used to do, that I am altogether, heart and soul, on his side. +I can see it in his eyes as he watches me. He thinks that I am tired +of him,—tired of his sufferings, tired of his poverty, tired of the +evil which men say of him. I am not sure but what he thinks that I +suspect him."</p> + +<p>"Of what, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Of general unfitness for the work he has to do. The feeling is not +strong as yet, but I fear that he will teach himself to think that he +has an enemy at his hearth,—not a friend. It will be the saddest +mistake he ever made."</p> + +<p>"He told me to-day that you were the best of women. Those were his +very words."</p> + +<p>"Were they, my dear? I am glad at least that he should say so to you. +He has been better since you came;—a great deal better. For one day +I was frightened; but I am very sorry now that I sent for you."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad, mamma; so very glad."</p> + +<p>"You were happy there,—and comfortable. And if they were glad to +have you, why should I have brought you away?"</p> + +<p>"But I was not happy;—even though they were very good to me. How +could I be happy there when I was thinking of you and papa and Jane +here at home? Whatever there is here, I would sooner share it with +you than be anywhere else,—while this trouble lasts."</p> + +<p>"My darling!—it is a great comfort to see you again."</p> + +<p>"Only that I knew that one less in the house would be a saving to you +I should not have gone. When there is unhappiness, people should stay +together;—shouldn't they, mamma?" They were sitting quite close to +each other, on an old sofa in a small upstairs room, from which a +door opened into the larger chamber in which Mr Crawley was lying. It +had been arranged between them that on this night Mrs Crawley should +remain with her husband, and that Grace should go to bed. It was now +past one o'clock, but she was still there, clinging to her mother's +side, with her mother's arm drawn round her. "Mamma," she said, when +they had both been silent for some ten minutes. "I have got something +to tell you."</p> + +<p>"To-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma; to-night, if you will let me."</p> + +<p>"But you promised that you would go to bed. You were up all last +night."</p> + +<p>"I am not sleepy, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Of course you shall tell me what you please, dearest. Is it a +secret? Is it something I am not to repeat?"</p> + +<p>"You must say how that ought to be, mamma. I shall not tell it to any +one else."</p> + +<p>"Well, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Sit comfortably, mamma;—there; like that, and let me have your +hand. It's a terrible story to have to tell."</p> + +<p>"A terrible story, Grace?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that you must not draw away from me. I shall want to feel +that you are quite close to me. Mamma, while I was at Allington, +Major Grantly came there?"</p> + +<p>"Did he, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Did he know them before?"</p> + +<p>"No, mamma; not at the Small House. But he came there—to see me. He +asked me—to be his wife. Don't move, mamma."</p> + +<p>"My darling child! I won't move, dearest. Well; and what did you say +to him? God bless him, at any rate. May God bless him, because he has +seen with a true eye, and felt with a noble instinct. It is +something, Grace, to have been wooed by such a man at such a time."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, it did make me feel proud; it did."</p> + +<p>"You had known him well before,—of course? I knew that you and he +were friends, Grace."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we were friends. I always liked him. I used not to know what to +think about him. Miss Anne Prettyman told me that it would be so; and +once before I thought so myself."</p> + +<p>"And had you made up your mind what to say to him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did then. But I did not say it."</p> + +<p>"Did not say what you had made up your mind to say?"</p> + +<p>"That was before all this had happened to papa."</p> + +<p>"I understand you, dearest."</p> + +<p>"When Miss Anne Prettyman told me that I should be ready with my +answer, and when I saw that Miss Prettyman herself used to let him +come to the house and seemed to wish that I should see him when he +came, and when he once was—so very gentle and kind, and when he said +that he wanted me to love Edith,— Oh, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling, I know. Of course you loved him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma. And I do love him. How could one not love him?"</p> + +<p>"I love him,—for loving you."</p> + +<p>"But, mamma, one is bound not to do a harm to any one that one loves. +So when he came to Allington I told him that I could not be his +wife."</p> + +<p>"Did you, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I did. Was I not right? Ought I to go to him to bring a +disgrace upon all the family, just because he is so good that he asks +me? Shall I injure him because he wants to do me a service?"</p> + +<p>"If he loves you, Grace, the service he will require will be your +love in return."</p> + +<p>"That is all very well, mamma,—in books; but I do not believe it in +reality. Being in love is very nice, and in poetry they make it out +to be everything. But I do not think I should make Major Grantly +happy if when I became his wife his own father and mother would not +see him. I know I should be so wretched, myself, that I could not +live."</p> + +<p>"But would it be so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I think it would. And the archdeacon is very rich, and can +leave all his money away from Major Grantly, if he pleases. Think +what I should feel if I were the cause of Edith losing her fortune!"</p> + +<p>"But why do you suppose these terrible things?"</p> + +<p>"I have a reason for supposing them. This must be a secret. Miss Anne +Prettyman wrote to me."</p> + +<p>"I wish Miss Anne Prettyman's hand had been in the fire."</p> + +<p>"No, mamma; no, she was right. Would not I have wished, do you think, +to have learned all the truth about the matter before I answered him? +Besides, it made no difference. I could have made no other answer +while papa is under such a terrible ban. It is no time for us to +think of being in love. We have got to love each other. Isn't it so, +mamma?" The mother did not answer in words, but slipping down on her +knees before her child threw her arms round her girl's body in a +close embrace. "Dear mamma; dearest mamma; this is what I +wanted;—that you should love me."</p> + +<p>"Love you, my angel!"</p> + +<p>"And trust me;—and that we should understand each other, and stand +close by each other. We can do so much to comfort one another;—but +we cannot comfort other people."</p> + +<p>"He must know that best himself, Grace;—but what did he say more to +you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he said anything more."</p> + +<p>"He just left you then?"</p> + +<p>"He said one thing more."</p> + +<p>"And what was that?"</p> + +<p>"He said—but he had no right to say it."</p> + +<p>"What was it, dear?"</p> + +<p>"That he knew that I loved him, and that therefore— But, mamma, do +not think of that. I will never be his wife;—never, in opposition to +his family."</p> + +<p>"But he did not take your answer?"</p> + +<p>"He must take it, mamma. He shall take it. If he can be stubborn, so +can I. If he knows how to think of me more than himself, I can think +of him and Edith more than of myself. That is not quite all, mamma. +Then he wrote to me. There is his letter."</p> + +<p>Mrs Crawley read the letter. "I suppose you answered it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I answered it. It was very bad, my letter. I should think after +that he will never want to have anything more to say to me. I tried +for two days, but I could not write a nice letter."</p> + +<p>"But what did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I don't in the least remember. It does not in the least signify now, +but it was such a bad letter."</p> + +<p>"I daresay it was very nice."</p> + +<p>"It was terribly stiff, and all about a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"All about a gentleman! What do you mean, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Gentleman is such a frightful word to have to use to a gentleman; +but I did not know what else to say. Mamma, if you please, we won't +talk about it;—not about the letter, I mean. As for him, I'll talk +about him for ever if you like it. I don't mean to be a bit +broken-hearted."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that he is a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma, that he is; and it is that which makes me so proud. When +I think of it, I can hardly hold myself. But now I've told you +everything, and I'll go away, and go to bed."</p> + + +<p><a name="c42" id="c42"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLII</h3> +<h3>Mr Toogood Travels Professionally<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Mr Toogood paid another visit to Barsetshire, in order that he might +get a little further information which he thought would be necessary +before despatching his nephew upon the traces of Dean Arabin and his +wife. He went down to Barchester after his work was over by an +evening train, and put himself up at "The Dragon of Wantly", +intending to have the whole of the next day for his work. Mr Walker +had asked him to come and take a return pot-luck dinner with Mrs +Walker at Silverbridge; and this he had said that he would do. After +having "rummaged about for tidings" in Barchester, as he called it, +he would take the train for Silverbridge, and would get back to town +in time for business on the third day. "One day won't be much, you +know," he said to his partner, as he made half an apology for +absenting himself on business which was not to be in any degree +remunerative. "That sort of thing is very well when one does it +without any expense" said Crump. "So it is," said Toogood; "and the +expense won't make it any worse." He had made up his mind, and it was +not probable that anything Mr Crump might say would deter him.</p> + +<p>He saw John Eames before he started. "You'll be ready this day week, +will you?" John Eames promised that he would. "It will cost you some +forty pounds, I should say. By George,—if you have to go on to +Jerusalem, it will cost you more." In answer to this, Johnny pleaded +that it would be as good as any other tour to him. He would see the +world. "I'll tell you what," said Toogood; "I'll pay half. Only you +mustn't tell Crump. And it will be quite as well not to tell Maria." +But Johnny would hear nothing of this scheme. He would pay the entire +cost of his own journey. He had lots of money, he said, and would +like nothing better. "Then I'll run down," said Toogood, "and rummage +up what tidings I can. As for writing to the dean, what's the good of +writing to a man when you don't know where he is? Business letters +always lie at hotels for two months, and then come back with double +postage. From all I can hear, you'll stumble on her before you find +him. If we do nothing else but bring him back, it will be a great +thing to have the support of such a friend in the court. A Barchester +jury won't like to find a man guilty who is hand-and-glove with the +dean."</p> + +<p>Mr Toogood reached the "Dragon" about eleven o'clock, and allowed the +boots to give him a pair of slippers and a candlestick. But he would +not go to bed just at that moment. He would go into the coffee-room +first, and have a glass of hot brandy-and-water. So the hot +brandy-and-water was brought to him, and a cigar, and as he smoked +and drank he conversed with the waiter. The man was a waiter of the +ancient class, a grey-haired waiter, with seedy clothes, and a dirty +towel under his arm; not a dapper waiter, with black shiny hair, and +dressed like a guest for a dinner-party. There are two distinct +classes of waiters, and as far as I have been able to perceive, the +special status of the waiter in question cannot be decided by +observation of the class of waiter to which he belongs. In such a +town as Barchester you may find the old waiter with the dirty towel +in the head inn, or in the second-class inn, and so you may the +dapper waiter. Or you may find both in each, and not know which is +senior waiter and which junior waiter. But for service I always +prefer the old waiter with the dirty towel, and I find it more easy +to satisfy him in the matter of sixpence when my relations to the inn +come to an end.</p> + +<p>"Have you been here long, John," said Mr Toogood.</p> + +<p>"A goodish many years, sir."</p> + +<p>"So I thought, by the look of you. One can see that you belong in a +way to the place. You do a good deal of business here, I suppose, at +this time of the year?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, pretty fair. The house ain't what it used to be, sir."</p> + +<p>"Times are bad at Barchester,—are they?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about the times. It's the people is worse than the +times, I think. They used to like to have a little dinner now and +again at a hotel;—and a drop of something to drink after it."</p> + +<p>"And don't they like it now?"</p> + +<p>"I think they like it well enough, but they don't do it. I suppose +it's their wives as don't let 'em come out and enjoy themselves. +There used to be the Goose and Glee club;—that was once a month. +They've gone and clean done away with themselves,—that club has. +There's old Bumpter in the High Street,—he's the last of the old +Geese. They died off, you see, and when Mr Biddle died they wouldn't +choose another president. A club for having dinner, sir, ain't +nothing without a president."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not."</p> + +<p>"And there's the Freemasons. They must meet, you know, sir, in +course, because of the dooties. But if you'll believe me, sir, they +don't so much as wet their whistles. They don't indeed. It always +used to be a supper, and that was once a month. Now they pays a rent +for the use of the room! Who is to get a living out of that, +sir?—not in the way of a waiter, that is."</p> + +<p>"If that's the way things are going on I suppose the servants leave +their places pretty often?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that, sir. A man may do a deal worse than 'The +Dragon of Wantly'. Them as goes away to better themselves, often +worses themselves, as I call it. I've seen a good deal of that."</p> + +<p>"And you stick to the old shop?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; I've been here fifteen years, I think it is. There's a +many goes away, as doesn't go out of their own heads, you know, sir."</p> + +<p>"They get the sack, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"There's words between them and master—or more likely, missus. +That's where it is. Servants is so foolish. I often tell 'em how +wrong folks are to say that soft words butter no parsnips, and hard +words break no bones."</p> + +<p>"I think you've lost some of the old hands here since this time last +year, John?"</p> + +<p>"You knows the house then, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—I've been here before."</p> + +<p>"There was four of them went, I think it's just about twelve months +back, sir."</p> + +<p>"There was a man in the yard I used to know, and last time I was down +here, I found that he was gone."</p> + +<p>"There was one of 'em out of the yard, and two out of the house. +Master and them had got to very high words. There was poor Scuttle, +who had been post-boy at 'The Compasses' before he came here."</p> + +<p>"He went to New Zealand, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"B'leve he did, sir; or to some foreign parts. And Anne, as was +under-chambermaid here; she went with him, fool as she was. They got +themselves married and went off, and he was well nigh as old as me. +But seems he'd saved a little money, and that goes a long way with +any girl."</p> + +<p>"Was he the man who drove Mr Soames that day the cheque was lost?" Mr +Toogood asked this question perhaps a little too abruptly. At any +rate he obtained no answer to it. The waiter said he knew nothing +about Mr Soames, or the cheque, and the lawyer, suspecting that the +waiter was suspecting him, finished his brandy-and-water and went to +bed.</p> + +<p>Early on the following morning he observed that he was specially +regarded by a shabby-looking man, dressed in black, but in a black +suit that was very old, with a red nose, whom he had seen in the +hotel on the preceding day; and he learned that this man was a cousin +of the landlord,—one Dan Stringer,—who acted as a clerk in the +hotel bar. He took an opportunity also of saying a word to Mr +Stringer the landlord,—whom he found to be a somewhat forlorn and +gouty individual, seated on cushions in a little parlour behind the +door. After breakfast he went out, and having twice walked round the +Cathedral close and inspected the front of the palace and looked up +at the windows of the prebendaries' houses, he knocked at the door of +the deanery. The dean and Mrs Arabin were on the Continent, he was +told. Then he asked for Mr Harding, having learned that Mr Harding +was Mrs Arabin's father, and that he lived in the deanery. Mr Harding +was at home, but was not very well, the servant said. Mr Toogood, +however, persevered, sending up his card, and saying that he wished +to have a few minutes' conversation with Mr Harding on very +particular business. He wrote a word upon his card before giving it +to the servant,—"about Mr Crawley". In a few minutes he was shown +into the library, and had hardly time, while looking at the shelves, +to remember what Mr Crawley had said of his anger at the beautiful +bindings, before an old man, very thin and very pale, shuffled into +the room. He stooped a good deal, and his black clothes were very +loose about his shrunken limbs. He was not decrepit, nor did he seem +to be one who had advanced to extreme old age; but yet he shuffled +rather than walked, hardly raising his feet from the ground. Mr +Toogood, as he came forward to meet him, thought that he had never +seen a sweeter face. There was very much of melancholy in it, of that +soft sadness of age which seems to acknowledge, and in some sort to +regret, the waning oil of life; but the regret to be read in such +faces has in it nothing of the bitterness of grief; there is no +repining that the end has come, but simply a touch of sorrow that so +much that is dear must be left behind. Mr Harding shook hands with +his visitor, and invited him to sit down, and then seated himself, +folding his hands together over his knees, and he said a few words in +a very low voice as to the absence of his daughter and of the dean.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will excuse my troubling you," said Mr Toogood.</p> + +<p>"It's no trouble at all,—if I could be of any use. I don't know +whether it is proper, but may I ask whether you call as,—as,—as a +friend of Mr Crawley's?"</p> + +<p>"Altogether as a friend, Mr Harding."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of that; though of course I am well aware that the +gentlemen engaged on the prosecution must do their duty. Still,—I +don't know,—somehow I would rather not hear them speak of this poor +gentleman before the trial."</p> + +<p>"You know Mr Crawley, then?"</p> + +<p>"Very slightly,—very slightly indeed. He is a gentleman not much +given to social habits, and has been but seldom here. But he is an +old friend whom my son-in-law loves dearly."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to hear you say that, Mr Harding. Perhaps before I go any +further I ought to tell you that Mrs Crawley and I are +first-cousins."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed. Then you are a friend."</p> + +<p>"I never saw him in my life till a few days ago. He is very queer you +know,—very queer indeed. I'm a lawyer, Mr Harding, practising in +London;—an attorney, that is." At each separate announcement Mr +Harding bowed, and when Toogood named his special branch of his +profession Mr Harding bowed lower than before, as though desirous of +showing that he had great respect for attorneys. "And of course I'm +anxious, if only out of respect for the family, that my wife's cousin +should pull through this little difficulty, if possible."</p> + +<p>"And for the sake of the poor man himself, too, and for his wife, and +his children;—and for the sake of the cloth."</p> + +<p>"Exactly; taking it all together it's such a pity, you know. I think, +Mr Harding, he can hardly have intended to steal the money."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he did not."</p> + +<p>"It's very hard to be sure of anybody, Mr Harding,—very hard."</p> + +<p>"I feel quite sure that he did not. He has been a most pious, +hardworking clergyman. I cannot bring myself to think that he is +guilty. What does the Latin proverb say? 'No one of a sudden becomes +most base.'"</p> + +<p>"But the temptation, Mr Harding, was very strong. He was awfully +badgered about his debts. That butcher in Silverbridge was playing +the mischief with him."</p> + +<p>"All the butchers in Barsetshire could not make an honest man steal +money, and I think that Mr Crawley is an honest man. You'll excuse me +for being a little hot about one of my own order."</p> + +<p>"Why, he's my cousin,—or rather, my wife's. But the fact is, Mr +Harding, we must get hold of the dean as soon as possible; and I'm +going to send a gentleman after him."</p> + +<p>"To send a gentleman after him?" said Mr Harding, almost in dismay.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think that will be best."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid he'll have to go a long way, Mr Toogood."</p> + +<p>"The dean, I'm told, is in Jerusalem."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid he is,—or on his journey there. He's to be there for the +Easter week, and Sunday week will be Easter Sunday. But why should +the gentleman want to go to Jerusalem after the dean?"</p> + +<p>Then Mr Toogood explained as well as he was able that the dean might +have something to say on the subject which would serve Mr Crawley's +defence. "We shouldn't leave any stone unturned," said Mr Toogood. +"As far as I can judge, Crawley still thinks,—or half thinks,—that +he got the cheque from your son-in-law." Mr Harding shook his head +sorrowfully. "I'm not saying he did, you know," continued Mr Toogood. +"I can't see myself how it is possible;—but still, we ought not to +leave any stone unturned. And Mrs Arabin,—can you tell me at all +where we shall find her?"</p> + +<p>"Has she anything to do with it, Mr Toogood?"</p> + +<p>"I can't quite say that she has, but it's just possible. As I said +before, Mr Harding, we mustn't leave a stone unturned. They're not +expected here till the end of April?"</p> + +<p>"About the 25th or 26th, I think."</p> + +<p>"And the assizes are the 28th. The judges come into the city on that +day. It will be too late too wait till then. We must have our defence +ready you know. Can you say where my friend will find Mrs Arabin?"</p> + +<p>Mr Harding began nursing his knee, patting it and being very tender +to it, as he sat meditating with his head on one side,—meditating +not so much as to the nature of his answer as to that of the +question. Could it be necessary that any emissary from a lawyer's +office should be sent after his daughter? He did not like the idea of +his Eleanor being disturbed by questions as to a theft. Though she +had been twice married and had a son who was now nearly a man, still +she was his Eleanor. But if it was necessary on Mr Crawley's behalf, +of course it must be done. "Her last address was at Paris, sir; but I +think she gone on to Florence. She has friends there, and she +purposes to meet the dean at Venice on his return." Then Mr Harding +turned to the table and wrote on a card his daughter's address.</p> + +<p>"I suppose Mrs Arabin must have heard of the affair?" said Mr +Toogood.</p> + +<p>"She had not done so when she last wrote. I mentioned it to her the +other day, before I knew that she had left Paris. If my letters and +her sister's letters have been sent on to her, she must know it now."</p> + +<p>Then Mr Toogood got up to take his leave. "You will excuse me for +troubling you, I hope, Mr Harding."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, pray do not mention it. It is no trouble if one could only +be of any service."</p> + +<p>"One can always try to be of service. In these affairs so much is to +be done by rummaging about, as I always call it. There have been many +theatrical managers, you know, Mr Harding, who have usually made up +their pieces according to the dresses they have happened to have in +their wardrobes."</p> + +<p>"Have there, indeed, now? I never should have thought of that."</p> + +<p>"And we lawyers have to do the same thing."</p> + +<p>"Not with your clothes, Mr Toogood?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly with our clothes;—but with our information."</p> + +<p>"I do not quite understand you, Mr Toogood."</p> + +<p>"In preparing a defence we have to rummage about and get up what we +can. If we can't find anything that suits us exactly, we are obliged +to use what we do find as well as we can. I remember, when I was a +young man, an ostler was to be tried for stealing some oats in the +Borough; and he did steal them too, and sold them at a rag-shop +regularly. The evidence against him was as plain as a pike-staff. All +I could find out was that on a certain day a horse had trod on the +fellow's foot. So we put it to the jury whether the man could walk as +far as the rag-shop with a bag of oats when he was dead lame;—and we +got him off."</p> + +<p>"Did you though?" said Mr Harding.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we did."</p> + +<p>"And he was guilty?"</p> + +<p>"He had been at it regularly for months."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear, dear! Wouldn't it have been better to have had him +punished for the fault,—gently; so as to warn him of the +consequences of such doings?"</p> + +<p>"Our business was to get him off,—and we got him off. It's my +business to get my cousin's husband off, if I can, and we must do it, +by hook or by crook. It's a very difficult piece of work, because he +won't let us employ a barrister. However, I shall have one in the +court and say nothing to him about it at all. Good-by, Mr Harding. As +you say, it would be thousand pities that a clergyman should be +convicted of a theft;—and one so well connected too."</p> + +<p>Mr Harding, when he was left alone, began to turn the matter over in +his mind and to reflect whether the thousand pities of which Mr +Toogood had spoken appertained to the conviction of the criminal, or +the doing of the crime. "If he did steal the money I suppose he ought +to be punished, let him be ever so much a clergyman," said Mr Harding +to himself. But yet,—how terrible it would be! Of clergymen +convicted of fraud in London he had often heard; but nothing of the +kind had ever disgraced the diocese to which he belonged since he had +known it. He could not teach himself to hope that Mr Crawley should +be acquitted if Mr Crawley were guilty;—but he could teach himself +to believe that Mr Crawley was innocent. Something of a doubt had +crept across his mind as he talked to the lawyer. Mr Toogood, though +Mrs Crawley was his cousin, seemed to believe that the money had been +stolen; and Mr Toogood as a lawyer ought to understand such matters +better than an old secluded clergyman in Barchester. But, +nevertheless, Mr Toogood might be wrong; and Mr Harding succeeded in +satisfying himself at last that he could not be doing harm in +thinking that Mr Toogood was wrong. When he had made up his mind on +this matter he sat down and wrote the following letter, which he +addressed to his daughter at the post-office in +Florence:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Deanery</span>; +–– March, 186––</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Nelly</span>,</p> + +<p>When I wrote on Tuesday I told you about poor Mr Crawley, +that he was the clergyman in Barsetshire of whose +misfortune you read an account in <span class="u">Galignani's +Messenger</span>,—and I think Susan must have written +about it also, because everybody here is talking of nothing else, +and because, of course, we know how strong a regard the +dean has for Mr Crawley. But since that something has +occurred which makes me write to you again,—at once. A +gentleman has just been here, and has indeed only this +moment left me, who tells me that he is an attorney in +London, and that he is nearly related to Mrs Crawley. He +seems to be a very good-natured man, and I daresay he +understands his business as a lawyer. His name is Toogood, +and he has come down as he says to get evidence to help +the poor gentleman on his trial. I cannot understand how +this should be necessary, because it seems to me that the +evidence should all be wanted on the other side. I cannot +for a moment suppose that a clergyman and a gentleman such +as Mr Crawley should have stolen money, and if he is +innocent I cannot understand why all this trouble should +be necessary to prevent a jury finding him guilty.</p> + +<p>Mr Toogood came here because he wanted to see the +dean,—and you also. He did not explain, as far as I can +remember, why he wanted to see you; but he said it would +be necessary, and that he was going to send off a +messenger to find you first, and the dean afterwards. It +has something to do with the money which was given to Mr +Crawley last year, and which, if I remember right, was +your present. But of course, Mr Toogood could not have +known anything about that. However, I gave him the +address,—poste restante, Florence,—and I daresay that +somebody will make you out before long, if you are still +stopping at Florence. I did not like letting him go +without telling you about it, as I thought that a lawyer's +coming to you would startle you.</p> + +<p>The bairns are quite well, as I told you in my other +letter, and Miss Jones says that little Elly is as good as +gold. They are with me every morning and evening, and +behave like darling angels, as they are. Posy is my own +little jewel always. You may be quite sure I do nothing to +spoil them.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">God bless you, +dearest Nelly,</span><br /> +<span class="ind10">Your most affectionate father,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Septimus +Harding</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>After this he wrote another letter to his other daughter, Mrs +Grantly, telling her also of Mr Toogood's visit; and then he spent +the remainder of the day thinking over the gravity of the occurrence. +How terrible would it be if a beneficed clergyman in the diocese +should really be found guilty of theft by a jury from the city! And +then he had always heard so high a character of this man from his +son-in-law. No,—it was impossible that Mr Crawley had in truth +stolen a cheque for twenty pounds!</p> + +<p>Mr Toogood could get no further information in Barchester, and went +on to Silverbridge early in the afternoon. He was half disposed to go +by Hogglestock and look up his cousin, whom he had never seen, and +his cousin's husband, upon whose business he was now intent; but on +reflection he feared that he might do more harm than good. He had +quite appreciated the fact that Mr Crawley was not like other men. +"The man's not above half-saved," he had said to his wife,—meaning +thereby to insinuate that the poor clergyman was not in full +possession of his wits. And, to tell the truth of Mr Toogood, he was +a little afraid of his relative. There was something in Mr Crawley's +manner, in spite of his declared poverty, and in spite also of his +extreme humility, which seemed to announce that he expected to be +obeyed when he spoke on any point with authority. Mr Toogood had not +forgotten the tone in which Mr Crawley had said to him, "Sir, this +thing you cannot do." And he thought that, upon the whole, he had +better not go to Hogglestock on this occasion.</p> + +<p>When at Silverbridge, he began at once to "rummage about". His chief +rummaging was to be done at Mr Walker's table; but before dinner he +had time to call upon the magistrates' clerk, and ask a few questions +as to the proceedings at the sitting from which Mr Crawley was +committed. He found a very taciturn old man, who was nearly as +difficult to deal with in any rummaging process as a porcupine. But, +nevertheless, at last he reached a state of conversation which was +not absolutely hostile. Mr Toogood pleaded that he was the poor man's +cousin,—pleaded that, as the family lawyer, he was naturally the +poor man's protector at such a time as the present,—pleaded also +that as the poor man was so very poor, no one else could come forward +on his behalf,—and in this way somewhat softened the hard sharpness +of the old porcupine's quills. But after all this, there was very +little to be learned from the old porcupine. "There was not a +magistrate on the bench," he said, "who had any doubt that the +evidence was sufficient to justify them in sending the case to the +assizes. They had all regretted,"—the porcupine said in his softest +moment,—"that the gentleman had come there without a legal adviser." +"Ah, that's been the mischief of it all!" said Mr Toogood, dashing +his hand against the porcupine's mahogany table. "But the facts were +so strong, Mr Toogood!" "Nobody there to soften 'em down, you know," +said Mr Toogood, shaking his head. Very little more than this was +learned from the porcupine; and then Mr Toogood went away, and +prepared for Mr Walker's dinner.</p> + +<p>Mr Walker had invited Dr Tempest and Miss Anne Prettyman and Major +Grantly to meet Mr Toogood, and had explained, in a manner intended +to be half earnest and half jocose, that though Mr Toogood was an +attorney, like himself, and was at this moment engaged in a noble way +on behalf of his cousin's husband, without any idea of receiving back +even the money which he would be out of pocket, still he wasn't +quite,—not quite, you know—"not quite so much of a gentleman as I +am,"—Mr Walker would have said, had he spoken out freely that which +he insinuated. But he contented himself with the emphasis he put upon +the "not quite," which expressed his meaning fully. And Mr Walker was +correct in his opinion of Mr Toogood. As regards the two attorneys I +will not venture to say that either of them was not a "perfect +gentleman". A perfect gentleman is a thing which I cannot define. But +undoubtedly Mr Walker was a bigger man in his way than was Mr Toogood +in his, and did habitually consort in the county of Barsetshire with +men of higher standing than those with whom Mr Toogood associated in +London.</p> + +<p>It seemed to be understood that Mr Crawley was to be the general +subject of conversation, and no one attempted to talk about anything +else. Indeed, at this time, very little else was talked about in that +part of the county;—not only because of the interest naturally +attaching to the question of the suspected guilt of a parish +clergyman, but because much had become lately known of Mr Crawley's +character, and because it was known also that an internecine feud had +arisen between him and the bishop. It had undoubtedly become the +general opinion that Mr Crawley had picked up and used a cheque which +was not his own;—that he had, in fact, stolen it; but there was, in +spite of that belief, a general wish that he might be acquitted and +left in his living. And when the tidings of Mr Crawley's victory over +the bishop at the palace had become bruited about, popular sympathy +went with the victor. The theft was, as it were, condoned, and people +made excuses which were not always rational, but which were founded +on the instincts of true humanity. And now the tidings of another +stage in the battle, as fought against Mr Crawley by the bishop, had +gone forth through the county, and men had heard that the rural dean +was to be instructed to make inquiries which should be preliminary to +proceedings against Mr Crawley in an ecclesiastical court. Dr +Tempest, who was now about to meet Mr Toogood at Mr Walker's, was the +rural dean to whom Mr Crawley would have to submit himself in any +such inquiry; but Dr Tempest had not as yet received from the bishop +any official order on the subject.</p> + +<p>"We are so delighted to think that you have taken up your cousin's +case," said Mrs Walker to Mr Toogood, almost in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"He is not just my cousin, himself," said Mr Toogood, "but of course +it's all the same thing. And as to taking up his case, you see, my +dear madam, he won't let me take it up."</p> + +<p>"I thought you had. I thought you were down here about it."</p> + +<p>"Only on the sly, Mrs Walker. He has such queer ideas that he will +not allow a lawyer to be properly employed; and you can't conceive +how hard that makes it. Do you know him, Mrs Walker?"</p> + +<p>"We know his daughter Grace." And then Mrs Walker whispered something +further, which we may presume to have been an intimation that the +gentleman opposite,—Major Grantly,—was supposed by some people to +be very fond of Miss Grace Crawley.</p> + +<p>"Quite a child, isn't she?" said Toogood, whose own daughter, now +about to be married, was three or four years older than Grace.</p> + +<p>"She's beyond being a child, I think. Of course she is young."</p> + +<p>"But I suppose this affair will knock all that on the head," said the +lawyer.</p> + +<p>"I do not know how that may be; but they do say he is very much +attached to her. The major is a man of family, and of course it would +be very disagreeable if Mr Crawley were found guilty."</p> + +<p>"Very disagreeable, indeed; but, upon my word, Mrs Walker, I don't +know what to say about it."</p> + +<p>"You think it will go against him, Mr Toogood?" Mr Toogood shook his +head, and on seeing this, Mrs Walker sighed deeply.</p> + +<p>"I can only say that I have heard nothing from the bishop as yet," +said Dr Tempest, after the ladies had left the room. "Of course, if +he thinks well to order it, the inquiry must be made."</p> + +<p>"But how long would it take?" asked Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>"Three months, I should think,—or perhaps more. Of course Crawley +would do all he could to delay us, and I am not at all sure that we +should be in any great hurry ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Who are the 'we', doctor?" said Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>"I cannot make such an inquiry by myself, you know. I suppose the +bishop would ask me to select two or four other clergymen to act with +me. That's the usual way of doing it. But you may be quite sure of +this, Walker; the assizes will be over, and the jury have found their +verdict long before we have settled our preliminaries."</p> + +<p>"And what will the be the good of your going on after that?"</p> + +<p>"Only this good:—if the unfortunate man be +convicted<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Which he won't," said Toogood, who thought it expedient to put on a +bolder front in talking of the matter to the rural dean, than he had +assumed in his whispered conversation with Mrs Walker.</p> + +<p>"I hope not, with all my heart," said the doctor. "But, perhaps, for +the sake of the argument, the supposition may be allowed to pass."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir," said Mr Toogood. "For the sake of the argument, it +may pass."</p> + +<p>"If he be convicted, then I suppose, there will be an end of the +question. He would be sentenced for not less, I should say, than +twelve months; and after that<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"And would be as good a parson of Hogglestock when he came out of +prison as when he went in," said Mr Walker. "The conviction and +judgment in a civil court would not touch his temporality."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Mr Toogood.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said the doctor. "We all know that; and in the event +of Mr Crawley coming back to his parish it would be open to the +bishop to raise the question as to his fitness for the duties."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't he be as fit as any one else?" said Mr Toogood.</p> + +<p>"Simply because he would have been found to be a thief," said the +doctor. "You must excuse me, Mr Toogood, but it's only for the sake +of the argument."</p> + +<p>"I don't see what that has to do with it," said Mr Toogood. "He would +have undergone his penalty."</p> + +<p>"It is preferable that a man who preaches from a pulpit should not +have undergone such a penalty," said the doctor. "But in practice, +under such circumstances,—which we none of us anticipate, Mr +Toogood,—the living should no doubt be vacated. Mr Crawley would +probably hardly wish to come back. The jury will do their work before +we can do ours,—will do it on a much better base than any we can +have; and, when they have done it, the thing ought to be finished. If +the jury acquit him, the bishop cannot proceed any further. If he be +found guilty I think that the resignation of the living must follow."</p> + +<p>"It is all spite, then, on the bishop's part?" said the major.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said the doctor. "The poor man is weak; that is all. He +is driven to persecute because he cannot escape persecution himself. +But it may really be a question whether his present proceeding is not +right. If I were bishop I should wait till the trial was over; that +is all."</p> + +<p>From this and from much more that was said during the evening on the +same subject, Mr Toogood gradually learned the position which Mr +Crawley and the question of Mr Crawley's guilt really held in the +county, and he returned to town resolved to go on with the case.</p> + +<p>"I'll have a barrister down express, and I'll defend him in his own +teeth," he said to his wife. "There'll be a scene in court, I +daresay, and the man will call upon his own counsel to hold his +tongue and shut up his brief; and, as far as I can see, counsel in +such a case would have no alternative. But there would come an +explanation,—how Crawley was too honourable to employ a man whom he +could not pay, and there would be a romance, and it would all go down +with the jury. One wants sympathy in such a case as that—not +evidence."</p> + +<p>"And how much will it cost, Tom?" said Maria, dolefully.</p> + +<p>"Only a trifle. We won't think of that yet. There's John Eames is +going all the way to Jerusalem, out of his pocket."</p> + +<p>"But Johnny hasn't got twelve children, Tom."</p> + +<p>"One doesn't have a cousin in trouble every day," said Toogood. "And +then you see there's something very pretty in the case. It's quite a +pleasure getting it up."</p> + + +<p><a name="c43" id="c43"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIII</h3> +<h3>Mr Crosbie Goes into the City<br /> </h3> + + +<p>"I have known the City now for more than ten years, Mr Crosbie, and I +never knew money to be so tight as it is at this moment. The best +commercial bills going can't be done under nine, and any other kind +of paper can't so much as get itself looked at." Thus spoke Mr +Musselboro. He was seated in Dobbs Broughton's arm-chair in Dobbs +Broughton's room in Hook Court, on the hind legs of which he was +balancing himself comfortably; and he was communicating his +experience in City matters to our old friend, Adolphus Crosbie,—of +whom we may surmise that he would not have been there, at that +moment, in Hook Court, if things had been going well with him. It was +now past eleven o'clock, and he should have been at his office at the +West End. His position in his office was no doubt high enough to +place him beyond the reach of any special inquiry as to such +absences; but it is generally felt that when the Crosbies of the West +End have calls into the City about noon, things in the world are not +going well with them. The man who goes into the City to look for +money is generally one who does not know where to get money when he +wants it. Mr Musselboro on this occasion kept his hat on his head, +and there was something in the way in which he balanced his chair +which was in itself an offence to Mr Crosbie's personal dignity. It +was hardly as yet two months since Mr Dobbs Broughton had assured him +in that very room that there need not be the slightest anxiety about +his bill. Of course it could be renewed,—the commission being duly +paid. As Mr Dobbs Broughton explained on that occasion, that was his +business. There was nothing he liked so much as renewing bills for +such customers as Mr Crosbie; and he was very candid at that meeting, +explaining how he did this branch of his business, raising money on +his own credit at four or five per cent., and lending it on his own +judgment at eight or nine. Mr Crosbie did not feel himself then +called upon to exclaim that what he was called upon to pay was about +twelve, perfectly understanding the comfort and grace of euphony; but +he had turned it over in his mind, considering whether twelve per +cent. was not more than he ought to be mulcted for the accommodation he +wanted. Now, at the moment, he would have been glad to get it from Mr +Musselboro, without further words, for twenty.</p> + +<p>Things had much changed with Adolphus Crosbie when he was driven to +make morning visits to such a one as Mr Musselboro with the view of +having a bill renewed for two hundred and fifty pounds. In his early +life he had always had the merit of being a careful man as to money. +In some other respects he had gone astray very foolishly,—as has +been partly explained in our earlier chapters; but up to the date of +his marriage with Lady Alexandrina De Courcy he had never had +dealings in Hook Court or in any such locality. Money troubles had +then come upon him. Lady Alexandrina, being the daughter of a +countess, had high ideas; and when, very shortly after his marriage, +he had submitted to a separation from his noble wife, he had found +himself and his income to be tied up inextricably in the hands of one +Mr Mortimer Gazebee, a lawyer who had married one of his wife's +sisters. It was not that Mr Gazebee was dishonest; nor did Crosbie +suspect him of dishonesty; but the lawyer was so wedded to the +interest of the noble family with which he was connected, that he +worked for them all, as an inferior spider might be supposed to work, +which, from the infirmity of its nature, was compelled by its +instincts to be catching flies always for superior spiders. Mr +Mortimer Gazebee had in this way entangled Mr Crosbie in his web on +behalf of those noble spiders, the De Courcys, and our poor friend, +in his endeavour to fight his way through the web, had fallen into +the hands of the Hook Court firm of Mrs Van Siever, Dobbs Broughton, +and Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"Mr Broughton told me when I was last here," said Crosbie, "that +there would be no difficulty about it."</p> + +<p>"And it was renewed then; wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it was,—for two months. But he was speaking of a +continuation of renewal."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid we can't do it, Mr Crosbie. I'm afraid we can't, indeed. +Money is so awful tight."</p> + +<p>"Of course I must pay what you choose to charge me."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that, Mr Crosbie. The bill is out for collection, and must +be collected. In times like these we must draw ourselves in a little, +you know. Two hundred and fifty pounds isn't a great deal of money, +you will say; but every little helps, you know; and, besides, of +course we go upon a system. Business is business, and must not be +made pleasure of. I should have a great deal of pleasure in doing +this for you, but it can't be done in the way of business."</p> + +<p>"When will Broughton be here?"</p> + +<p>"He may be in at any time;—I can't say when. I suppose he's down at +the court now."</p> + +<p>"What court?"</p> + +<p>"Capel Court."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I can see him there?" said Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"If you catch him you can see him, of course. But what good will that +do you, Mr Crosbie? I tell you that we can't do it for you. If +Broughton was here at this moment it couldn't make the slightest +difference."</p> + +<p>Now Mr Crosbie had an idea that Mr Musselboro, though he sat in Dobbs +Broughton's seat and kept on his hat, and balanced his chair on two +legs, was in truth nothing more than a clerk. He did not quite +understand the manner in which the affairs of the establishment were +worked, though he had been informed that Mrs Van Siever was one of +the partners. That Dobbs Broughton was the managing man, who really +did the business, he was convinced; and he did not therefore like to +be answered peremptorily by such a one as Musselboro. "I should wish +to see Mr Broughton," he said.</p> + +<p>"You can call again,—or you can go down to the court if you like it. +But you may take this as an answer from me that the bill can't be +renewed by us." At this moment the door of the room was opened, and +Dobbs Broughton himself came into it. His face was not at all +pleasant, and any one might have seen with half an eye that the +money-market was a great deal tighter than he liked it to be. "Here +is Mr Crosbie here,—about that bill," said Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"Mr Crosbie must take up his bill; that's all," said Dobbs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"But it doesn't suit me to take it up," said Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"Then you must take it up without suiting you," said Dobbs Broughton.</p> + +<p>It might have been seen, I said, with half an eye, that Mr Broughton +did not like the state of the money-market; and it might also be seen +with the other half that he had been endeavouring to mitigate the +bitterness of his dislike by alcoholic aid. Musselboro at once +perceived that his patron and partner was half drunk, and Crosbie was +aware that he had been drinking. But, nevertheless, it was necessary +that something more should be said. The bill would be due +to-morrow,—was payable at Crosbie's bankers; and, as Mr Crosbie too +well knew, there were no funds there for the purpose. And there were +other purposes, very needful, for which Mr Crosbie's funds were at +the present moment unfortunately by no means sufficient. He stood for +a few moments thinking what he would do;—whether he would leave the +drunken man and his office and let the bill take its chance or +whether he would make one more effort for an arrangement. He did not +for a moment believe that Broughton himself was subject to any +pecuniary difficulty. Broughton lived in a big house, as rich men +live, and had a name for commercial success. It never occurred to +Crosbie that it was a matter of great moment to Dobbs Broughton +himself that the bill should be taken up. Crosbie still thought that +Musselboro was his special enemy, and that Broughton had joined +Musselboro in his hostility simply because he was too drunk to know +better. "You might, at any rate, answer me civilly, Mr Broughton," he +said.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about civility with things as they are at present," +said Broughton. "Civil by +<span class="nowrap">––––!</span> There's +nothing so civil as paying +money when you owe it. Musselboro, reach me down the decanter and +some glasses. Perhaps Mr Crosbie will wet his whistle."</p> + +<p>"He don't want any wine,—nor you either," said Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"What's up now?" said Broughton, staggering across the room towards a +cupboard, in which it was his custom to keep a provision of that +comfort which he needed at the present moment. "I suppose I may stand +a glass of wine to a fellow in my own room, if I like it."</p> + +<p>"I will take no wine, thank you," said Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"Then you can to do the other thing. When I ask a gentleman to take a +glass of wine, there is no compulsion. But about the bill there is +compulsion. Do you understand that? You may drink, or let it alone; +but pay you must. Why, Mussy, what d'ye think?—there's Carter, +Ricketts and Carter;—I'm blessed if Carter just now didn't beg for +two months, as though two months would be all the world to him, and +that for a trumpery five hundred pounds. I never saw money like it is +now; never." To this appeal, Musselboro made no reply, not caring, +perhaps, at the present moment to sustain his partner. He still +balanced himself in his chair, and still kept his hat on his head. +Even Mr Crosbie began to perceive that Mr Musselboro's genius was in +the ascendant in Hook Court.</p> + +<p>"I can hardly believe," said Crosbie, "that things can be so bad that +I cannot have a bill for two hundred and fifty pounds renewed when I +am willing to pay for the accommodation. I have not done much in the +way of bills, but I never had one dishonoured yet."</p> + +<p>"Don't let this be the first," said Dobbs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"Not if I can prevent it," said Crosbie. "But to tell you the truth, +Mr Broughton, my bill will be dishonoured unless I can have it +renewed. If it does not suit you to do it, I suppose you can +recommend me to some one who can make it convenient."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you go to your bankers?" said Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"I never did ask my bankers for anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"Then you should try what your credit with them is worth," said +Broughton. "It isn't worth much here, as you can perceive. Ha, ha, +ha!"</p> + +<p>Crosbie, when he heard this, became very angry; and Musselboro, +perceiving this, got out of his chair, so that he might be in +readiness to prevent any violence, if violence were attempted. "It +really is no good your staying here," he said. "You see that +Broughton has been drinking. There's no knowing what he may say or +do."</p> + +<p>"You be blowed," said Broughton, who had taken the arm-chair as soon +as Musselboro had left it.</p> + +<p>"But you may believe me in the way of business," continued +Musselboro, "when I tell you that it really does not suit us to renew +the bill. We're pressed ourselves, and we must press others."</p> + +<p>"And who will do it for me?" said Crosbie, almost in despair.</p> + +<p>"There are Burton and Bangles there, the wine-merchants down in the +yard; perhaps they may accommodate you. It's all in their line; but +I'm told they charge uncommon dear."</p> + +<p>"I don't know Messrs Burton and Bangles," said Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"That needn't stand in your way. You tell them where you come from, +and they'll make inquiry. If they think it's about right, they'll +give you the money; and if they don't, they won't."</p> + +<p>Mr Crosbie then left the office without exchanging another word with +Dobbs Broughton, and went down into Hook Court. As he descended the +stairs he turned over in his mind the propriety of going to Messrs +Burton and Bangles with the view of relieving himself from his +present difficulty. He knew that it was ruinous. Dealing even with +such men as Dobbs Broughton and Musselboro, whom he presumed to be +milder in their greed than Burton and Bangles, were, all of them, +steps on the road to ruin. But what was he to do? If his bill were +dishonoured, the fact would certainly become known at his office, and +he might even ultimately be arrested. In the doorway at the bottom of +the stairs he stood for some moments, looking over at Burton and +Bangles', and he did not at all like the aspect of the establishment. +Inside the office he could see a man standing with a cigar in his +mouth, very resplendent with a new hat,—with a hat remarkable for +the bold upward curve of its rim, and this man was copiously +decorated with a chain and seals hanging about widely over his +waistcoat. He was leaning with his back against the counter, and was +talking to some one on the other side of it. There was something in +the man's look and manner that was utterly repulsive to Crosbie. He +was more vulgar to the eye even than Musselboro, and his voice, which +Crosbie could hear as he stood in the other doorway, was almost as +detestable as that of Dobbs Broughton in his drunkenness. Crosbie did +not doubt that this was either Burton or Bangles, and that the man +standing inside was either Bangles or Burton. He could not bring +himself to accost these men and tell them of his necessities, and +propose to them that they should relieve him. In spite of what +Musselboro had just said to him, he could not believe it possible +that he should succeed, were he to do so without some introduction. +So he left Hook Court and went out into the lane, hearing as he went +the loud voice of the man with the turned-up hat and the chain.</p> + +<p>But what was he to do? At the outset of his pecuniary troubles, when +he first found it necessary to litigate some question with the De +Courcy people, and withstand the web which Mortimer Gazebee wove so +assiduously, his own attorney had introduced him to Dobbs Broughton, +and the assistance which he had needed had come to him, at any rate, +without trouble. He did not especially like Mr Broughton; and when Mr +Broughton first invited him to come and eat a little bit of dinner, +he had told himself with painful remorse that in his early days he +had been accustomed to eat his little bits of dinner with people of a +different kind. But there had been nothing really painful in this. +Since his marriage with a daughter of the De Courcys,—by which +marriage he had intended to climb to the highest pinnacle of social +eating and drinking,—he had gradually found himself to be falling in +the scale of such matters, and could bring himself to dine with a +Dobbs Broughton without any violent pain. But now he had fallen so +low that Dobbs Broughton had insulted him, and he was in such +distress that he did not know where to turn for ten pounds. Mr +Gazebee had beaten him at litigation, and his own lawyer had advised +him that it would be foolish to try the matter further. In his +marriage with the noble daughter of the De Courcys he had allowed the +framers of the De Courcy settlement to tie him up in such a way that +now, even when chance had done so much for him in freeing him from +his wife, he was still bound to the De Courcy faction. Money had been +paid away,—on his behalf, as alleged by Mr Gazebee,—like running +water; money for furniture, money for the lease of a house, money +when he had been separated from his wife, money while she was living +abroad. It had seemed to him that he had been made to pay for the +entire support of the female moiety of the De Courcy family which had +settled itself at Baden-Baden, from the day, and in some respects +from before the day, on which his wife had joined that moiety. He had +done all in his power to struggle against these payments, but every +such struggle had only cost him more money. Mr Gazebee had written to +him the civilest notes; but every note seemed to cost him +money,—every word of each note seemed to find its way into some +bill. His wife had died and her body had been brought back, with all +the pomp befitting the body of an earl's daughter, that it might be +laid with the old De Courcy dust,—at his expense. The embalming of +her dear remains had cost a wondrous sum, and was a terrible blow +upon him. All these items were showered upon him by Mr Gazebee with +the most courteously worded demands for settlement as soon as +convenient. And then, when he applied that Lady Alexandrina's small +fortune should be made over to him,—according to a certain agreement +under which he had made over all his possessions to his wife, should +she have survived him,—Mr Gazebee expressed a mild opinion that he +was wrong in his law, and blandly recommended an amicable lawsuit. +The amicable lawsuit was carried on. His own lawyer seemed to throw +him over. Mr Gazebee was successful in everything. No money came to +him. Money was demanded from him on old scores and on new +scores,—and all that he received to console him for what he had lost +was a mourning ring with his wife's hair,—for which, with sundry +other mourning rings, he had to pay,—and an introduction to Mr Dobbs +Broughton. To Mr Dobbs Broughton he owed five hundred pounds; and as +regarded a bill for the one-half of that sum which was due to-morrow, +Mr Dobbs Broughton had refused to grant him renewal for a single +month!</p> + +<p>I know no more uncomfortable walking than that which falls to the lot +of men who go into the City to look for money, and who find none. Of +all the lost steps trodden by men, surely the steps lost after that +fashion are the most melancholy. It is not only that they are so +vain, but that they are accompanied by so killing a sense of shame! +To wait about in dingy rooms, which look on to bare walls, and are +approached through some Hook Court; or to keep appointments at a low +coffee-house, to which trystings the money-lender will not trouble +himself to come unless it pleases him; to be civil, almost suppliant, +to a cunning knave whom the borrower loathes; to be refused thrice, +and then cheated with his eyes open on the fourth attempt; to submit +himself to vulgarity of the foulest kind, and to have to seem to like +it; to be badgered, reviled, and at last accused of want of honesty +by the most fraudulent of mankind; and at the same time to be clearly +conscious of the ruin that is coming,—this is the fate of him who +goes into the City to find money, not knowing where it is to be +found!</p> + +<p>Crosbie went along the lane into Lombard Street, and then he stood +still for a moment to think. Though he knew a good deal of affairs in +general, he did not quite know what would happen to him if his bill +should be dishonoured. That somebody would bring it to him noted, and +require him instantly to put his hand into his pocket and bring out +the amount of the bill, plus the amount of certain expenses, he +thought that he did know. And he knew that were he in trade he would +become a bankrupt; and he was well aware that such an occurrence +would prove him to be insolvent. But he did not know what his +creditors would immediately have the power of doing. That the fact of +the bill having been dishonoured would reach the Board under which he +served,—and, therefore, also the fact that he had had recourse to +such bill transactions,—this alone was enough to fill him with +dismay. In early life he had carried his head so high, he had been so +much more than a mere Government clerk, that the idea of the coming +disgrace almost killed him. Would it not be well that he should put +an end to himself, and thus escape? What was there in the world now +for which it was worth his while to live? Lily, whom he had once +gained, and by that gain had placed himself high in all hopes of +happiness and riches,—whom he had thrown away from him, and who had +again seemed to be almost within his reach,—Lily had so refused him +that he knew not how to approach her with a further prayer. And, had +she not refused him, how could he have told her of his load of debt? +As he stood at the corner where the lane runs into Lombard Street, he +came for a while to think almost more of Lily than of his rejected +bill. Then, as he thought of both his misfortunes together, he asked +himself whether a pistol would not conveniently put an end to them +together.</p> + +<p>At that moment a loud, harsh voice greeted his ear. "Hallo, Crosbie, +what brings you so far east? One does not often see you in the City." +It was the voice of Sir Raffle Buffle, which in former days had been +very odious to Crosbie's ears;—for Sir Raffle Buffle had once been +the presiding genius of the office to which Crosbie still belonged.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, not very often," said Crosbie, smiling. Who can tell, +who has not felt it, the pain that goes to the forcing of such +smiles? But Sir Raffle was not an acutely observant person, and did +not see that anything was wrong.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you're doing a little business?" said Sir Raffle. "If a +man has kept a trifle of money by him, this certainly is the time for +turning it. You have always been wide awake about such things."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said Crosbie. If he could only make up his mind that he +would shoot himself, would it not be a pleasant thing to inflict some +condign punishment on this odious man before he left the world? But +Crosbie knew that he was not going to shoot himself, and he knew also +that he had no power of inflicting condign punishment on Sir Raffle +Buffle. He could only hate the man, and curse him inwardly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, ha!" said Sir Raffle. "You wouldn't be here unless you knew +where a good thing is to be picked up. But I must be off. I'm on the +Rocky Mountain Canal Company Directory. I'm not above taking my two +guineas a day. Good-by, my boy. Remember me to old Optimist." And so +Sir Raffle passed on, leaving Crosbie still standing at the corner of +the lane.</p> + +<p>What was he to do? This interruption had at least seemed to drive +Lily from his mind, and to send his ideas back to the consideration +of his pecuniary difficulties. He thought of his own bank, a West-End +establishment at which he was personally known to many of the clerks, +and where he had been heretofore treated with great consideration. +But of late his balances had been very low, and more than once he had +been reminded that he had overdrawn his account. He knew well that +the distinguished firm of Bounce, Bounce, and Bounce would not cash a +bill for him or lend him money without security. He did not even dare +to ask them to do so.</p> + +<p>On a sudden he jumped into a cab, and was driven back to his office. +A thought had come upon him. He would throw himself upon the kindness +of a friend there. Hitherto he had contrived to hold his head so high +above the clerks below him, so high before the Commissioners who were +above him, that none there suspected him to be a man in difficulty. +It not seldom happens that a man's character stands too high for his +interest,—so high that it cannot be maintained, and so high that any +fall will be dangerous. And so it was with Crosbie and his character +at the General Committee Office. The man to whom he was now thinking +of applying as his friend was a certain Mr Butterwell, who had been +his predecessor in the secretary's chair, and who now filled the less +onerous but more dignified position of a Commissioner. Mr Crosbie had +somewhat despised Mr Butterwell, and had of late years not been +averse to showing that he did so. He had snubbed Mr Butterwell, and +Mr Butterwell, driven to his wits' ends, had tried a fall or two with +him. In all these struggles Crosbie had had the best of it, and +Butterwell had gone to the wall. Nevertheless, for the sake of +official decency, and from certain wise remembrances of the sources +of official comfort and official discomfort, Mr Butterwell had always +maintained a show of outward friendship with the secretary. They +smiled and were gracious, called each other Butterwell and Crosbie, +and abstained from all cat-and-dog absurdities. Nevertheless, it was +the frequently expressed opinion of every clerk in the office that Mr +Butterwell hated Mr Crosbie like poison. This was the man to whom +Crosbie suddenly made up his mind that he would have recourse.</p> + +<p>As he was driven back to his office he resolved that he would make a +plunge at once at the difficulty. He knew that Butterwell was fairly +rich, and he knew also that he was good-natured,—with that sort of +sleepy good-nature which is not active for philanthropic purposes, +but which dislikes to incur the pain of refusing. And then Mr +Butterwell was nervous, and if the thing was managed well, he might +be cheated out of an assent, before time had been given him in which +to pluck up courage for refusing. But Crosbie doubted his own courage +also,—fearing that if he gave himself time for hesitation he would +hesitate, and that, hesitating, he would feel the terrible disgrace +of the thing and not do it. So, without going to his own desk, or +ridding himself of his hat, he went at once to Butterwell's room. +When he opened the door, he found Mr Butterwell alone, reading <i>The +Times</i>. "Butterwell," said he, beginning to speak before he had even +closed the door, "I have come to you in great distress. I wonder +whether you can help me; I want you to lend me five hundred pounds? +It must be for not less than three months."</p> + +<p>Mr Butterwell dropped the paper from his hands, and stared at the +secretary over his spectacles.</p> + + +<p><a name="c44" id="c44"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIV</h3> +<h3>"I Suppose I Must Let You Have It"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Crosbie had been preparing the exact words with which he assailed Mr +Butterwell for the last quarter of an hour, before they were uttered. +There is always a difficulty in the choice, not only of the words +with which money should be borrowed, but of the fashion after which +they should be spoken. There is the slow deliberate manner, in using +which the borrower attempts to carry the wished-for lender along with +him by force of argument, and to prove that the desire to borrow +shows no imprudence on his own part, and that a tendency to lend will +show none on the part of the intended lender. It may be said that +this mode fails oftener than any other. There is the piteous +manner,—the plea for commiseration. "My dear fellow, unless you will +see me through now, upon my word I shall be very badly off." And this +manner may be divided again into two. There is the plea piteous with +a lie, and the plea piteous with a truth. "You shall have it again in +two months as sure as the sun rises." That is generally the plea +piteous with a lie. Or it may be as follows: "It is only fair to say +that I don't quite know when I can pay it back." This is the plea +piteous with a truth, and upon the whole I think that this is +generally the most successful mode of borrowing. And there is the +assured demand,—which betokens a close intimacy. "Old fellow, can +you let me have thirty pounds? No? Just put your name, then, on the +back of this, and I'll get it done in the City." The worst of that +manner is, that the bill so often does not get itself done in the +City. Then there is the sudden attack,—that being the manner to +which Crosbie had recourse in the present instance. That there are +other modes of borrowing by means of which youth becomes indebted to +age, and love to respect, and ignorance to experience, is a matter of +course. It will be understood that I am here speaking only of +borrowing and lending between the Butterwells and Crosbies of the +world. "I have come to you in great distress," said Crosbie. "I +wonder whether you can help me. I want you to lend me five hundred +pounds." Mr Butterwell, when he heard the words, dropped the paper +which he was reading from his hand, and stared at Crosbie over his +spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Five hundred pounds," he said. "Dear me, Crosbie; that's a large sum +of money."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is,—a very large sum. Half that is what I want at once; but +I shall want the other half in a month."</p> + +<p>"I thought that you were always so much above the world in money +matters. Gracious me;—nothing that I have heard for a long time has +astonished me more. I don't know why, but I always thought you had +your things so very snug."</p> + +<p>Crosbie was aware that he had made one very great step towards +success. The idea had been presented to Mr Butterwell's mind, and had +not been instantly rejected as a scandalously iniquitous idea, as an +idea to which no reception could be given for a moment. Crosbie had +not been treated as was the needy knife-grinder, and had ground to +stand upon while he urged his request. "I have been so pressed since +my marriage," he said, "that it has been impossible for me to keep +things straight."</p> + +<p>"But Lady Alexandrina—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course; I know. I do not like to trouble you with my private +affairs;—there is nothing, I think, so bad as washing one's dirty +linen in public;—but the truth is, that I am only now free from the +rapacity of the De Courcys. You would hardly believe me if I told you +what I've had to pay. What do you think of two hundred and forty-five +pounds for bringing her body over here, and burying it at De Courcy?"</p> + +<p>"I'd have left it where it was."</p> + +<p>"And so would I. You don't suppose I ordered it to be done. Poor dear +thing. If it could do her any good, God knows I would not begrudge +it. We had a bad time of it when we were together, but I would have +spared nothing for her, alive or dead, that was reasonable. But to +make me pay for bringing the body over here, when I never had a +shilling with her! By George, it was too bad. And that oaf John De +Courcy,—I had to pay his travelling bill too."</p> + +<p>"He didn't come to be buried;—did he?"</p> + +<p>"It's too disgusting to talk of, Butterwell; it is indeed. And when I +asked for her money that was settled upon me,—it was only two +thousand pounds,—they made me go to law, and it seems there was no +two thousand pounds to settle. If I like, I can have another lawsuit +with the sisters, when the mother is dead. Oh, Butterwell, I have +made such a fool of myself. I have come to such shipwreck! Oh, +Butterwell, if you could but know it all."</p> + +<p>"Are you free from the De Courcys now?"</p> + +<p>"I owe Gazebee, the man who married the other woman, over a thousand +pounds. But I pay that off at two hundred a year, and he has a policy +on my life."</p> + +<p>"What do you owe that for?"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me. Not that I mind telling you;—furniture, and the lease +of a house, and his bill for the marriage +settlement,—<span class="nowrap">d––––</span> +him."</p> + +<p>"God bless me. They seem to have been very hard upon you."</p> + +<p>"A man doesn't marry an earl's daughter for nothing, Butterwell. And +then to think what I lost! It can't be helped now, you know. As a man +makes his bed he must lie on it. I am sometimes so mad with myself +when I think over it all,—that I should like to blow my brains out."</p> + +<p>"You must not talk in that way, Crosbie. I hate to hear a man talk +like that."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean that I shall. I'm too much of a coward, I fancy." A man +who desires to soften another man's heart should always abuse +himself. In softening a woman's heart, he should abuse her. "But life +has been so bitter with me for the last three years! I haven't had an +hour of comfort;—not an hour. I don't know why I should trouble you +with all this Butterwell. Oh,—about the money; yes; that's just how +I stand. I owed Gazebee something over a thousand pounds, which is +arranged as I have told you. Then there were debts, due by my +wife,—at least some of them were, I suppose,—and that horrid, +ghastly funeral,—and debts, I don't doubt, due by the cursed old +countess. At any rate, to get myself clear I raised something over +four hundred pounds, and now I owe five which must be paid, part +to-morrow, and the remainder this day month."</p> + +<p>"And you've no security?"</p> + +<p>"Not a rag, not a shred, not a line, not an acre. There's my salary, +and after paying Gazebee what comes due to him, I can manage to let +you have the money within twelve months,—that is, if you can lend it +to me. I can just do that and live; and if you will assist me with +the money, I will do so. That's what I've brought myself to by my own +folly."</p> + +<p>"Five hundred pounds is such a large sum of money."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is."</p> + +<p>"And without any security!"</p> + +<p>"I know, Butterwell, that I've no right to ask for it. I feel that. +Of course I should pay you what interest you please."</p> + +<p>"Money's about seven now," said Butterwell.</p> + +<p>"I've not the slightest objection to seven per cent.," said Crosbie.</p> + +<p>"But that's on security," said Butterwell.</p> + +<p>"You can name your own terms," said Crosbie.</p> + +<p>Mr Butterwell got out of his chair, and walked about the room with +his hands in his pockets. He was thinking at the moment of what Mrs +Butterwell would say to him. "Will an answer do to-morrow morning?" +he said. "I would much rather have it to-day," said Crosbie. Then Mr +Butterwell took another turn about the room. "I suppose I must let +you have it," he said.</p> + +<p>"Butterwell," said Crosbie, "I'm eternally obliged to you. It's +hardly too much to say that you've saved me from ruin."</p> + +<p>"Of course I was joking about interest," said Butterwell. "Five per +cent. is the proper thing. You'd better let me have a little +acknowledgement. I'll give you the first half to-morrow."</p> + +<p>They were genuine tears which filled Crosbie's eyes, as he seized +hold of the senior's hands. "Butterwell," he said, "what am I to say +to you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all,—nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"Your kindness makes me feel that I ought not to have come to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense. By-the-by, would you mind telling Thompson to bring +those papers to me which I gave him yesterday? I promised Optimist I +would read them before three, and it's past two now." So saying he +sat himself down at his table, and Crosbie felt that he was bound to +leave the room.</p> + +<p>Mr Butterwell, when he was left alone, did not read the papers which +Thompson brought him; but sat, instead, thinking of his five hundred +pounds. "Just put them down," he said to Thompson. So the papers were +put down, and there they lay all that day and all the next. Then +Thompson took them away again, and it is to be hoped that somebody +read them. Five hundred pounds! It was a large sum of money, and +Crosbie was a man for whom Mr Butterwell in truth felt no very strong +affection. "Of course he must have it now," he said to himself. "But +where should I be if anything happened to him?" And then he +remembered that Mrs Butterwell especially disliked Mr +Crosbie,—disliked him because she knew that he snubbed her husband. +"But it's hard to refuse, when one man has known another for more +than ten years." Then he comforted himself somewhat with the +reflection, that Crosbie would no doubt make himself more pleasant +for the future than he had done lately, and with a second reflection, +that Crosbie's life was a good life,—and with a third, as to his own +great goodness, in assisting a brother officer. Nevertheless, as he +sat looking out of the omnibus window, on his journey home to Putney, +he was not altogether comfortable in his mind. Mrs Butterwell was a +very prudent woman.</p> + +<p>But Crosbie was very comfortable in his mind on that afternoon. He +had hardly dared to hope for success, but he had been successful. He +had not even thought of Butterwell as a possible fountain of supply, +till his mind had been brought back to the affairs of his office, by +the voice of Sir Raffle Buffle at the corner of the street. The idea +that his bill would be dishonoured, and that tidings of his +insolvency would be conveyed to the Commissioners at his Board, had +been dreadful to him. The way in which he had been treated by +Musselboro and Dobbs Broughton had made him hate City men, and what +he supposed to be City ways. Now there had come to him a relief which +suddenly made everything feel light. He could almost think of Mr +Mortimer Gazebee without disgust. Perhaps after all there might be +some happiness yet in store for him. Might it not be possible that +Lily would yet accept him in spite of the chilling letter,—the +freezing letter which he had received from Lily's mother? Of one +thing he was quite certain. If ever he had the opportunity of +pleading his own cause with her, he certainly would tell her +everything respecting his own money difficulties.</p> + +<p>In that last resolve I think we may say that he was right. If Lily +would ever listen to him again at all, she certainly would not be +deterred from marrying him by his own story of his debts.</p> + + +<p><a name="c45" id="c45"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLV</h3> +<h3>Lily Dale Goes to London<br /> </h3> + + +<p>One morning towards the end of March the squire rapped at the window +of the drawing-room of the Small House, in which Mrs Dale and her +daughter were sitting. He had a letter in his hand, and both Lily and +her mother knew that he had come down to speak about the contents of +the letter. It was always a sign of good-humour on the squire's part, +this rapping at the window. When it became necessary to him in his +gloomy moods to see his sister-in-law, he would write a note to her, +and she would go across to him at the Great House. At other times, +if, as Lily would say, he was just then neither sweet nor bitter, he +would go round to the front door and knock, and be admitted after the +manner of ordinary people; but when he was minded to make himself +thoroughly pleasant he would come and rap at the drawing-room window, +as he was doing now.</p> + +<p>"I'll let you in, uncle; wait a moment," said Lily, as she unbolted +the window which opened out upon the lawn. "It's dreadfully cold, so +come in as fast as you can."</p> + +<p>"It's not cold at all," said the squire. "It's more like spring than +any morning we've had yet. I've been sitting without a fire."</p> + +<p>"You won't catch us without one for the next two months; will he, +mamma? You have got a letter, uncle. Is it for us to see?"</p> + +<p>"Well—yes; I've brought it down to show you. Mary, what do you think +is going to happen?"</p> + +<p>A terrible idea occurred to Mrs Dale at that moment, but she was much +too wise to give it expression. Could it be possible that the squire +was going to make a fool of himself and get married? "I am very bad +at guessing," said Mrs Dale. "You had better tell us."</p> + +<p>"Bernard is going to be married," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"How did you know?" said the squire.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know. I only guessed."</p> + +<p>"Then you've guessed right," said the squire, a little annoyed at +having his news thus taken out of his mouth.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad," said Mrs Dale; "and I know from your manner that you +like the match."</p> + +<p>"Well,—yes. I don't know the young lady, but I think that upon the +whole I do like it. It's quite time, you know, that he got married."</p> + +<p>"He's not thirty yet," said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>"He will be, in a month or two."</p> + +<p>"And who is it, uncle?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—as you're so good at guessing, I suppose you can guess that?"</p> + +<p>"It's not that Miss Partridge he used to talk about?"</p> + +<p>"No; it's not Miss Partridge,—I'm glad to say. I don't believe that +the Partridges have a shilling among them."</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose it's an heiress," said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>"No; not an heiress; but she will have some money of her own. And she +has connexions in Barsetshire, which makes it pleasant."</p> + +<p>"Connexions in Barsetshire! Who can it be?" said Lily.</p> + +<p>"Her name is Emily Dunstable," said the squire, "and she is the niece +of that Miss Dunstable who married Dr Thorne and who lives at +Chaldicotes."</p> + +<p>"She was the woman who had millions upon millions," said Lily, "and +all got by selling ointment."</p> + +<p>"Never mind how it was got," said the squire, angrily. "Miss +Dunstable married most respectably, and has always made a most +excellent use of her money."</p> + +<p>"And will Bernard's wife have all her fortune?" asked Lily.</p> + +<p>"She will have twenty thousand pounds the day she marries, and I +suppose that will be all."</p> + +<p>"And quite enough, too," said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>"It seems that old Mr Dunstable, as he was called, who, as Lily says, +sold the ointment, quarrelled with his son or with his son's widow, +and left nothing either to her or her child. The mother is dead, and +the aunt, Dr Thorne's wife, has always provided for the child. That's +how it is, and Bernard is going to marry her. They are to be married +at Chaldicotes in May."</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to hear it," said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>"I've known Dr Thorne for the last forty years;" and the squire now +spoke in a low melancholy tone. "I've written to him to say that the +young people shall have the old place up there to themselves if they +like it."</p> + +<p>"What! And turn you out?" said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>"That would not matter," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"You'd have to come and live with us," said Lily, taking him by the +hand.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter much now where I live," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"Bernard would never consent to that," said Mrs Dale.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether she will ask me to be a bridesmaid?" said Lily. +"They say that Chaldicotes is such a pretty place, and I should see +all the Barsetshire people that I've been hearing about from Grace. +Poor Grace! I know that the Grantlys and the Thornes are very +intimate. Fancy Bernard having twenty thousand pounds from the making +of ointment!"</p> + +<p>"What does it matter to you where it comes from?" said the squire, +half in anger.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least; only it sounds so odd. I do hope she's a nice +girl."</p> + +<p>Then the squire produced a photograph of Emily Dunstable which his +nephew had sent to him, and they all pronounced her to be very +pretty, to be very much like a lady, and to be very good-humoured. +The squire was evidently pleased with the match, and therefore the +ladies were pleased also. Bernard Dale was the heir to the estate, +and his marriage was of course a matter of moment; and as on such +properties as that of Allington money is always wanted, the squire +may be forgiven for the great importance which he attached to the +young lady's fortune. "Bernard could hardly have married prudently +without any money," he said,—"unless he had chosen to wait till I am +gone."</p> + +<p>"And then he would have been too old to marry at all," said Lily.</p> + +<p>But the squire's budget of news had not yet been emptied. He told +them soon afterwards that he himself had been summoned up to London. +Bernard had written to him, begging him to come and see the young +lady; and the family lawyer had written also, saying that his +presence in town would be very desirable. "It is very troublesome, of +course; but I shall go," said the squire. "It will do you all the +good in the world," said Mrs Dale; "and of course you ought to know +her personally before the marriage." And then the squire made a clean +breast of it and declared his full purpose. "I was thinking that, +perhaps, Lily would not object to go up to London with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, uncle Christopher, I should so like it," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"If your mamma does not object."</p> + +<p>"Mamma never objects to anything. I should like to see her objecting +to that!" And Lily shook her head at her mother.</p> + +<p>"Bernard says that Miss Dunstable particularly wants to see you."</p> + +<p>"Does she, indeed? And I particularly want to see Miss Dunstable. How +nice! Mamma, I don't think I've ever been in London since I wore +short frocks. Do you remember taking us to the pantomime? Only think +how many years ago that is. I'm quite sure it's time that Bernard +should get married. Uncle, I hope you're prepared to take me to the +play."</p> + +<p>"We must see about that!"</p> + +<p>"And the opera, and Madame Tussaud, and the Horticultural Gardens, +and the new conjuror who makes a woman lie upon nothing. The idea of +my going to London! And then I suppose I shall be one of the +bridesmaids. I declare a new vista of life is opening out to me! +Mamma, you mustn't be dull while I'm away. It won't be very long, I +suppose, uncle?"</p> + +<p>"About a month, probably," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma; what will you do?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind me, Lily."</p> + +<p>"You must get Bell and the children to come. But I cannot imagine +living away from home a month. I was never away from home a month in +my life."</p> + +<p>And Lily did go up to town with her uncle, two days only having been +allowed to her for her preparations. There was very much for her to +think of in such a journey. It was not only that she would see Emily +Dunstable who was to be her cousin's wife, and that she would go to +the play and visit the new conjurer's entertainment, but that she +would be in the same city both with Adolphus Crosbie and with John +Eames. Not having personal experience of the wideness of London, and +of the wilderness which it is,—of the distance which is set there +between persons who are not purposely brought together,—it seemed to +her fancy as though for this month of her absence from home she would +be brought into close contiguity with both her lovers. She had +hitherto felt herself to be at any rate safe in her fortress at +Allington. When Crosbie had written to her mother, making a renewed +offer which had been rejected, Lily had felt that she certainly need +not see him unless it pleased her to do so. He could hardly force +himself upon her at Allington. And as to John Eames, though he would, +of course, be welcome at Allington as often as he pleased to show +himself, still there was a security in the place. She was so much at +home there that she could always be the mistress of the occasion. She +knew that she could talk to him at Allington as though from ground +higher than that on which he stood himself; but she felt that this +would hardly be the case if she should chance to meet him in London. +Crosbie probably would not come in her way. Crosbie, she +thought,—and she blushed for the man she loved, as the idea came +across her mind,—would be afraid of meeting her uncle. But John +Eames would certainly find her; and she was led by the experience of +latter days to imagine that John would never cross her path without +renewing his attempts.</p> + +<p>But she said no word of all this, even to her mother. She was +contented to confine her outspoken expectations to Emily Dunstable, +and the play, and the conjurer. "The chances are ten to one against +my liking her, mamma," she said.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I feel to be too old to think that I shall ever like any more new +people. Three years ago I should have been quite sure that I should +love a new cousin. It would have been like having a new dress. But +I've come to think that an old dress is the most comfortable, and an +old cousin certainly the best."</p> + +<p>The squire had taken for them a gloomy lodging in Sackville Street. +Lodgings in London are always gloomy. Gloomy colours wear better than +bright ones for curtains and carpets, and the keepers of lodgings in +London seem to think that a certain dinginess of appearance is +respectable. I never saw a London lodging in which any attempt at +cheerfulness had been made, and I do not think that any such attempt, +if made, would pay. The lodging-seeker would be frightened and +dismayed, and would unconsciously be led to fancy that something was +wrong. Ideas of burglars and improper persons would present +themselves. This is so certainly the case that I doubt whether any +well-conditioned lodging-house matron could be induced to show rooms +that were prettily draped or pleasantly coloured. The big +drawing-room and two large bedrooms which the squire took, were all +that was proper, and were as brown, and as gloomy, and as ill-suited +for the comforts of ordinary life as though they had been prepared +for two prisoners. But Lily was not so ignorant as to expect cheerful +lodgings in London, and was satisfied. "And what are we to do now?" +said Lily, as soon as they found themselves settled. It was still +March, and whatever may have been the nature of the weather at +Allington, it was very cold in London. They reached Sackville Street +about five in the evening, and an hour was taken up in unpacking +their trunks and making themselves as comfortable as their +circumstances allowed. "And now what are we to do now?" said Lily.</p> + +<p>"I told them to have dinner for us at half-past six."</p> + +<p>"And what after that? Won't Bernard come to us to-night? I expected +him to be standing on the door-steps waiting for us with his bride in +his hand."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose Bernard will be here to-night," said the squire. "He +did not say that he would, and as for Miss Dunstable, I promised to +take you to her aunt's house to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"But I wanted to see her to-night. Well;—of course bridesmaids must +wait upon brides. And ladies with twenty thousand pounds can't be +expected to run about like common people. As for Bernard,—but +Bernard never was in a hurry." Then they dined, and when the squire +had very nearly fallen asleep over a bottle of port wine which had +been sent in for him from some neighbouring public-house, Lily began +to feel that it was very dull. And she looked round the room, and she +thought that it was very ugly. And she calculated that thirty +evenings so spent would seem to be very long. And she reflected that +the hours were probably going much more quickly with Emily Dunstable, +who, no doubt, at this moment had Bernard Dale by her side. And then +she told herself that the hours were not tedious with her at home, +while sitting with her mother, with all her daily occupations within +her reach. But in so telling herself she took herself to task, +inquiring of herself whether such an assurance was altogether true. +Were not the hours sometimes tedious even at home? And in this way +her mind wandered off to thoughts upon life in general, and she +repeated to herself over and over again the two words which she had +told John Eames that she would write in her journal. The reader will +remember those two words;—Old Maid. And she had written them in her +book, making each letter a capital, and round them she had drawn a +scroll, ornamented after her own fashion, and she had added the date +in quaintly formed figures,—for in such matters Lily had some little +skill and a dash of fun to direct it; and she had inscribed below it +an Italian motto:—"Who goes softly, goes safely;" and above her work +of art she had put a heading—"As arranged by fate for L. D." Now she +thought of all this, and reflected whether Emily Dunstable was in +truth very happy. Presently the tears came into her eyes, and she got +up and went to the window, as though she were afraid that her uncle +might wake and see them. And as she looked out on the blank street, +she muttered a word or two—"Dear mother! Dearest mother!" Then the +door was opened, and her cousin Bernard announced himself. She had +not heard his knock at the door as she had been thinking of the two +words in her book.</p> + +<p>"What; Bernard!—ah, yes, of course," said the squire, rubbing his +eyes as he strove to wake himself. "I wasn't sure you would come, but +I'm delighted to see you. I wish you joy with all my heart,—with all +my heart."</p> + +<p>"Of course I should come," said Bernard. "Dear Lily, this is so good +of you. Emily is so delighted." Then Lily spoke her congratulations +warmly, and there was no trace of a tear in her eyes, and she was +thoroughly happy as she sat by her cousin's side and listened to his +raptures about Emily Dunstable. "And you will be so fond of her +aunt," he said.</p> + +<p>"But is she not awfully rich?" said Lily.</p> + +<p>"Frightfully rich," said Bernard; "but really you would hardly find +it out if nobody told you. Of course she lives in a big house, and +has a heap of servants; but she can't help that."</p> + +<p>"I hate a heap of servants," said Lily.</p> + +<p>Then there came another knock at the door, and who should enter the +room but John Eames. Lily for a moment was taken aback, but it was +only for a moment. She had been thinking so much of him that his +presence disturbed her for an instant. "He probably will not know +that I am here," she had said to herself; but she had not yet been +three hours in London, and he was already with her! At first he +hardly spoke to her, addressing himself to the squire. "Lady Julia +told me you were to be here, and as I start for the Continent early +to-morrow morning, I thought you would let me come and see you before +I went."</p> + +<p>"I'm always glad to see you, John," said the squire,—"very glad. And +so you are going abroad, are you?"</p> + +<p>Then Johnny congratulated his old acquaintance, Bernard Dale, as to +his coming marriage, and explained to them how Lady Julia in one of +her letters had told him all about it, and had even given him the +number in Sackville Street. "I suppose she learned it from you, +Lily," said the squire. "Yes uncle, she did." And then there came +questions as to John's projected journey to the Continent, and he +explained that he was going on law-business, on behalf of Mr Crawley, +to catch the dean and Mrs Arabin, if it might be possible. "You see, +sir, Mr Toogood, who is Mr Crawley's cousin, and also his lawyer, is +my cousin, too; and that's why I'm going." And still there had been +hardly a word spoken between him and Lily.</p> + +<p>"But you're not a lawyer, John; are you?" said the squire.</p> + +<p>"No. I'm not a lawyer myself."</p> + +<p>"Nor a lawyer's clerk?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not a lawyer's clerk," said Johnny, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Then why should you go?" asked Bernard Dale.</p> + +<p>Then Johnny had to explain, and in doing so he became very eloquent +as to the hardships of Mr Crawley's case. "You see, sir, nobody can +possibly believe that such a man as that stole twenty pounds."</p> + +<p>"I do not for one," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"God forbid that I should say he did," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"I'm quite sure he didn't," said Johnny, warming to his subject. "It +couldn't be that such a man as that should become a thief all at +once. It's not human nature, sir; is it?"</p> + +<p>"It is very hard to know what is human nature," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"It's the general opinion down in Barsetshire that he did steal it," +said Bernard. "Dr Thorne was one of the magistrates who committed +him, and I know he thinks so."</p> + +<p>"I don't blame the magistrates in the least," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"That's kind of you," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"Of course you'll laugh at me, sir; but you'll see that we shall come +out right. There's some mystery in it of which we haven't got at the +bottom as yet; and if there is anybody that can help us it's the +dean."</p> + +<p>"If the dean knows anything, why has he not written and told what he +knows?" said the squire.</p> + +<p>"That's what I can't say. The dean has not had an opportunity of +writing since he heard,—even if he has yet heard,—that Mr Crawley +is to be tried. And then he and Mrs Arabin are not together. It's a +long story, and I will not trouble you with it all; but at any rate +I'm going off to-morrow. Lily, can I do anything for you in +Florence?"</p> + +<p>"In Florence?" said Lily; "and are you really going to Florence? How +I envy you."</p> + +<p>"And who pays your expenses?" said the squire.</p> + +<p>"Well;—as to my expenses, they are to be paid by a person who won't +raise any unpleasant questions about the amount."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"He means himself," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to have a trip for my own fun," said Johnny, "and I shall +pick up evidence on the road, as I'm going;—that's all."</p> + +<p>Then Lily began to take an active part in the conversation, and a +great deal was said about Mr Crawley, and about Grace, and Lily +declared that she would be very anxious to hear any news which John +Eames might be able to send. "You know, John, how fond we are of your +cousin Grace, at Allington? Are we not, uncle?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," said the squire. "I thought her a very nice girl."</p> + +<p>"If you should be able to learn anything that may be of use, John, +how happy you will be."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I shall," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"And I think it is so good of you to go, John. But it is just like +you. You were always generous." Soon after that he got up and went. +It was very clear to him that he would have no moment in which to say +a word alone to Lily; and if he could find such a moment, what good +would such a word do him? It was as yet but a few weeks since she had +positively refused him. And he too remembered very well those two +words which she had told him she would write in her book. As he had +been coming to the house he had told himself that his coming would +be,—could be of no use. And yet he was disappointed with the result +of his visit, although she had spoken to him so sweetly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you'll be gone when I come back?" he said.</p> + +<p>"We shall be here a month," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"I shall be back long before that, I hope," said Johnny. "Good-by, +sir. Good-by, Dale. Good-by, Lily." And he put out his hand to her.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, John." And then she added, almost in a whisper. "I think +you are very, very right to go." How could he fail after that to hope +as he walked home that she might still relent. And she also thought +much of him, but her thoughts of him made her cling more firmly than +ever to the two words. She could not bring herself to marry him; but, +at least, she would not break his heart by becoming the wife of any +one else. Soon after this Bernard Dale went also. I am not sure that +he had been well pleased at seeing John Eames become suddenly the +hero of the hour. When a young man is going to perform so important +an act as that of marriage he is apt to think that he ought to be the +hero of the hour himself—at any rate among his own family.</p> + +<p>Early on the next morning Lily was taken by her uncle to call upon +Mrs Thorne, and to see Emily Dunstable. Bernard was to meet them +there, but it had been arranged that they should reach the house +first. "There is nothing so absurd as these introductions," Bernard +had said. "You go and look at her, and when you've had time to look +at her, then I'll come!" So the squire and Lily went off to look at +Emily Dunstable.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that she lives in that house?" said Lily, when +the cab was stopped before an enormous mansion in one of the most +fashionable of the London squares.</p> + +<p>"I believe she does," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"I never shall be able to speak to anybody living in such a house as +that," said Lily. "A duke couldn't have anything grander."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Thorne is richer than half the dukes," said the squire. Then the +door was opened by a porter, and Lily found herself within the hall. +Everything was very great, and very magnificent, and, as she thought, +very uncomfortable. Presently she heard a loud jovial voice on the +stairs. "Mr Dale, I'm delighted to see you. And this is your niece +Lily. Come up, my dear. There is a young woman upstairs, dying to +embrace you. Never mind the umbrella. Put it down anywhere. I want to +have a look at you, because Bernard swears that you're so pretty." +This was Mrs Thorne, once Miss Dunstable, the richest woman in +England, and the aunt of Bernard's bride. The reader may perhaps +remember the advice which she once gave to Major Grantly, and her +enthusiasm on that occasion. "There she is, Mr Dale; what do you +think of her?" said Mrs Thorne, as she opened the door of a small +sitting-room wedged in between two large saloons, in which Emily +Dunstable was sitting.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Martha, how can you be so ridiculous?" said the young lady.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is ridiculous to ask the question to which one really +wants to have an answer," said Mrs Thorne. "But Mr Dale has, in +truth, come to inspect you, and to form an opinion; and, in honest +truth, I shall be very anxious to know what he thinks,—though, of +course, he won't tell me."</p> + +<p>The old man took the girl in his arms, and kissed her on both cheeks. +"I have no doubt you'll find out what I think," he said, "though I +should never tell you."</p> + +<p>"I generally do find out what people think," she said. "And so you're +Lily Dale?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm Lily Dale."</p> + +<p>"I have so often heard of you, particularly of late; for you must +know that a certain Major Grantly is a friend of mine. We must take +care that that affair comes off all right, must we not?"</p> + +<p>"I hope it will." Then Lily turned to Emily Dunstable, and, taking +her hand, went up and sat beside her, while Mrs Thorne and the squire +talked of the coming marriage. "How long have you been engaged?" said +Lily.</p> + +<p>"Really engaged, about three weeks. I think it is not more than three +weeks ago."</p> + +<p>"How very discreet Bernard has been. He never told us a word about it +while it was going on."</p> + +<p>"Men never do tell, I suppose," said Emily Dunstable.</p> + +<p>"Of course you love him very dearly?" said Lily, not knowing what +else to say.</p> + +<p>"Of course I do."</p> + +<p>"So do we. You know he's almost a brother to us; that is, to me and +my sister. We never had a brother of our own." And so the morning was +passed till Lily was told by her uncle to come away, and was told +also by Mrs Thorne that she was to dine with them in the square on +that day. "You must not be surprised that my husband is not here," +she said. "He is a very odd sort of man, and he never comes to London +if he can help it."</p> + + +<p><a name="c46" id="c46"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVI</h3> +<h3>The Bayswater Romance<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Eames had by no means done his work for that evening when he left Mr +Dale and Lily at their lodgings. He had other business in hand to +which he had promised to give attention, and another person to see +who would welcome his coming quite as warmly, though by no means as +pleasantly, as Lily Dale. It was then just nine o'clock, and as he +had told Miss Demolines,—Madalina we may as well call her now,—that +he would be in Porchester Terrace by nine at the latest, it was +incumbent on him to make haste. He got into a cab, and bid the cabman +drive hard, and lighting a cigar, began to inquire of himself whether +it was well for him to hurry away from the presence of Lily Dale to +that of Madalina Demolines. He felt that he was half-ashamed of what +he was doing. Though he declared to himself over and over again that +he never had said a word, and never intended to say a word, to +Madalina, which all the world might not hear, yet he knew that he was +doing amiss. He was doing amiss, and half repented it, and yet he was +half proud of it. He was most anxious to be able to give himself +credit for his constancy to Lily Dale; to be able to feel that he was +steadfast in his passion; and yet he liked the idea of amusing +himself with his Bayswater romance, as he would call it, and was not +without something of conceit as he thought of the progress he had +made in it. "Love is one thing and amusement is another," he said to +himself as he puffed the cigar smoke out of his mouth; and in his +heart he was proud of his own capacity for enjoyment. He thought it a +fine thing, although at the same moment he knew it to be an evil +thing—this hurrying away from the young lady whom he really loved to +another as to whom he thought it very likely that he should be called +upon to pretend to love her. And he sang a little song as he went, +"If she be not fair to me, what care I how fair she be." That was +intended to apply to Lily, and was used as an excuse for his +fickleness in going to Miss Demolines. And he was, perhaps, too, a +little conceited as to his mission to the Continent. Lily had told +him that she was very glad that he was going; that she thought him +very right to go. The words had been pleasant to his ears, and Lily +had never looked prettier in his eyes than when she had spoken them. +Johnny, therefore, was rather proud of himself as he sat in the cab +smoking his cigar. He had, moreover, beaten his old enemy Sir Raffle +Buffle in another contest, and he felt that the world was smiling on +him;—that the world was smiling on him in spite of his cruel fate in +the matter of his real lovesuit.</p> + +<p>There was a mystery about the Bayswater romance which was not without +its allurement, and a portion of the mystery was connected with +Madalina's mother. Lady Demolines was very rarely seen, and John +Eames could not quite understand what was the manner of life of that +unfortunate lady. Her daughter usually spoke of her with affectionate +regret as being unable to appear on that particular occasion on +account of some passing malady. She was suffering from a nervous +headache, or was afflicted with bronchitis, or had been touched with +rheumatism, so that she was seldom on the scene when Johnny was +passing his time at Porchester Terrace. And yet he heard of her +dining out, and going to plays and operas; and when he did chance to +see her, he found that she was a sprightly old woman enough. I will +not venture to say that he much regretted the absence of Lady +Demolines, or that he was keenly alive to the impropriety of being +left alone with the gentle Madalina; but the customary absence of the +elder lady was an incident in the romance which did not fail to +strike him.</p> + +<p>Madalina was alone when he was shown up into the drawing-room on the +evening of which we are speaking.</p> + +<p>"Mr Eames," she said, "will you kindly look at that watch which is +lying on the table." She looked full at him with her great eyes wide +open, and the tone of her voice was intended to show him that she was +aggrieved.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see it," said John, looking down on Miss Demolines' little +gold Geneva watch, with which he had already made sufficient +acquaintance to know that it was worth nothing. "Shall I give it +you?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mr Eames; let it remain there, that it may remind me, if it does +not remind you, by how long a time you have broken your word."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I couldn't help it;—upon my honour I couldn't."</p> + +<p>"Upon your honour, Mr Eames!"</p> + +<p>"I was obliged to go and see a friend who has just come to town from +my part of the country."</p> + +<p>"That is the friend, I suppose, of whom I have heard from Maria." It +is to be feared that Conway Dalrymple had not been so guarded as he +should have been in some of his conversations with Mrs Dobbs +Broughton, and that a word or two had escaped from him as to the love +of John Eames for Lily Dale.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you may have heard," said Johnny, "but I was +obliged to see these people before I left town. There is going to be +a marriage and all that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"Who is going to be married?"</p> + +<p>"One Captain Dale is going to be married to one Miss Dunstable."</p> + +<p>"Oh! And as to one Miss Lily Dale,—is she to be married to anybody?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I have heard of," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"She is not going to become the wife of one Mr John Eames?"</p> + +<p>He did not wish to talk to Miss Demolines about Lily Dale. He did not +choose to disown the imputation, or to acknowledge its truth.</p> + +<p>"Silence gives consent," she said. "If it be so, I congratulate you. +I have no doubt she is a most charming young woman. It is about seven +years, I believe, since that little affair with Mr Crosbie, and +therefore that, I suppose, may be considered as forgotten."</p> + +<p>"It is only three years," said Johnny, angrily. "Besides, I don't +know what that has to do with it."</p> + +<p>"You need not be ashamed," said Madalina. "I have heard how well you +behaved on that occasion. You were quite the preux chevalier; and if +any gentleman ever deserved well of a lady you deserved well of her. +I wonder how Mr Crosbie felt when he met you the other day at +Maria's. I had not heard anything about it then, or I should have +been much more interested in watching your meeting."</p> + +<p>"I really can't say how he felt."</p> + +<p>"I daresay not; but I saw him shake hands with you. And so Lily Dale +has come to town."</p> + +<p>"Yes,—Miss Dale is here with her uncle."</p> + +<p>"And you are going away to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—and I am going away to-morrow."</p> + +<p>After that there was a pause in the conversation. Eames was sick of +it, and was very anxious to change the conversation. Miss Demolines +was sitting in the shadow, away from the light, with her face half +hidden by her hands. At last she jumped up, and came round and stood +opposite to him. "I charge you to tell me truly, John Eames," she +said, "whether Miss Lilian Dale is engaged to you as your future +wife?" He looked up into her face, but made no immediate answer. Then +she repeated her demand. "I ask you whether you are engaged to marry +Miss Lilian Dale, and I expect a reply."</p> + +<p>"What makes you ask me such a question as that?"</p> + +<p>"What makes me ask you? Do you deny my right to feel so much interest +in you as to desire to know whether you are about to married? Of +course you can decline to tell me if you choose."</p> + +<p>"And if I were to decline?"</p> + +<p>"I should know then that it was true, and I should think that you +were a coward."</p> + +<p>"I don't see any cowardice in the matter. One does not talk about +that kind of thing to everybody."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, Mr Eames, you are complimentary;—indeed you are. To +everybody! I am everybody,—am I? That is your idea of—friendship! +You may be sure that after that I shall ask no further questions."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean it in the way you've taken it, Madalina."</p> + +<p>"In what way did you mean it, sir? Everybody! Mr Eames, you must +excuse me if I say that I am not well enough this evening to bear the +company of—everybody. I think you had better leave me. I think that +you had better go."</p> + +<p>"Are you angry with me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am,—very angry. Because I have condescended to feel an +interest in your welfare, and have asked you a question which I +thought that our intimacy justified, you tell me that that is a kind +of thing that you will not talk about to—everybody. I beg you to +understand that I will not be your everybody. Mr Eames, there is the +door."</p> + +<p>Things had now become very serious. Hitherto Johnny had been seated +comfortably in the corner of a sofa, and had not found himself bound +to move, though Miss Demolines was standing before him. But now it +was absolutely necessary that he should do something. He must either +go, or else he must make entreaty to be allowed to remain. Would it +not be expedient that he should take the lady at her word and escape? +She was still pointing to the door, and the way was open to him. If +he were to walk out now of course he would never return, and there +would be the end of the Bayswater romance. If he remained it might be +that the romance would become troublesome. He got up from his seat, +and had almost resolved that he would go. Had she not somewhat +relaxed the majesty of her anger as he rose, had the fire of her eye +not been somewhat quenched and the lines of her mouth softened, I +think that he would have gone. The romance would have been over, and +he would have felt it had come to an inglorious end; but it would +have been well for him that he should have gone. Though the fire was +somewhat quenched and the lines were somewhat softened, she was still +pointing to the door. "Do you mean it?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I do mean it,—certainly."</p> + +<p>"And this is to be the end of everything?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know what you mean by everything. It is a very little +everything to you, I should say. I do not quite understand your +everything and your everybody."</p> + +<p>"I will go, if you wish me to go, of course."</p> + +<p>"I do wish it."</p> + +<p>"But before I go, you must permit me to excuse myself. I did not +intend to offend you. I merely meant<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"You merely meant! Give me an honest answer to a downright question. +Are you engaged to Miss Lilian Dale?"</p> + +<p>"No;—I am not."</p> + +<p>"Upon your honour?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think that I would tell you a falsehood about it? What I +meant was that it is a kind of thing one doesn't like talking about, +merely because stories are bandied about. People are so fond of +saying that this man is engaged to that woman, and of making up +tales; and it seems so foolish to contradict such things."</p> + +<p>"But you know that you used to be very fond of her."</p> + +<p>He had taken up his hat when he had risen from the sofa, and was +still standing with it ready in his hand. He was even now half-minded +to escape; and the name of Lily Dale in Miss Demolines' mouth was so +distasteful to him that he would have done so,—he would have gone in +sheer disgust, had she not stood in his way, so that he could not +escape without moving her, or going round behind the sofa. She did +not stir to make way for him, and it may be that she understood that +he was her prisoner, in spite of her late command to him to go. It +may be, also, that she understood his vexation and the cause of it, +and that she saw the expediency of leaving Lily Dale alone for the +present. At any rate, she pressed him no more upon the matter. "Are +we to be friends again?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I hope so," replied Johnny.</p> + +<p>"There is my hand, then." So Johnny took her hand and pressed it, and +held it for a little while,—just long enough to seem to give a +meaning to the action. "You will get to understand me some day," she +said, "and will learn that I do not like to be reckoned among the +everybodies by those for whom I really—really—really have a regard. +When I am angry, I am angry."</p> + +<p>"You were very angry just now, when you showed me the way to the +door."</p> + +<p>"And I meant it too,—for the minute. Only think,—supposing you had +gone! We should never have seen each other again;—never, never! What +a change one word may make!"</p> + +<p>"One word often does make a change."</p> + +<p>"Does it not? Just a little 'yes', or 'no'. A 'no' is said when a +'yes' is meant, and then there comes no second chance, and what a +change that may be from bright hopes to desolation! Or, worse again, +a 'yes' is said when a 'no' should be said,—when the speaker knows +that it should be 'no'. What a difference that 'no' makes! When one +thinks of it, one wonders that a woman should ever say anything but +'no'."</p> + +<p>"They never did say anything else to me," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it. I daresay the truth is, you never asked +anybody."</p> + +<p>"Did anybody ever ask you?"</p> + +<p>"What would you give to know? But I will tell you frankly;—yes. And +once,—once I thought that my answer would not have been a 'no'."</p> + +<p>"But you changed your mind?"</p> + +<p>"When the moment came I could not bring myself to say the word that +should rob me of my liberty for ever. I had said 'no' to him often +enough before,—poor fellow; and on this occasion, he told me that he +asked for the last time. 'I shall not give myself another chance,' he +said, 'for I shall be on board ship within a week.' I merely bade him +good-by. It was the only answer I gave him. He understood me, and +since that day his foot has not pressed his native soil."</p> + +<p>"And was it all because you are so fond of your liberty?" said +Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps,—I did not—love him," said Miss Demolines, thoughtfully. +She was now again seated in her chair, and John Eames had gone back +to his corner of the sofa. "If I had really loved him I suppose it +would have been otherwise. He was a gallant fellow, and had two +thousand a year of his own, in India stock and other securities."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! And he has not married yet?"</p> + +<p>"He wrote me a word to say that he would never marry till I was +married,—but that on the day that he should hear of my wedding, he +would go to the first single woman near him and propose. It was a +droll thing to say; was it not?"</p> + +<p>"The single woman ought to feel herself flattered."</p> + +<p>"He would find plenty to accept him. Besides being so well off he was +a very handsome fellow, and is connected with people of title. He had +everything to recommend him."</p> + +<p>"And yet you refused him so often?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You think I was foolish;—do you not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think you were at all foolish if you didn't care for him."</p> + +<p>"It was my destiny, I suppose; I daresay I was wrong. Other girls +marry without violent love, and do very well afterwards. Look at +Maria Clutterbuck."</p> + +<p>The name of Maria Clutterbuck had become odious to John Eames. As +long as Miss Demolines would continue to talk about herself he could +listen with some amount of gratification. Conversation on that +subject was the natural progress of the Bayswater romance. And if +Madalina would only call her friend by her present name, he had no +strong objection to an occasional mention of the lady; but the +combined names of Maria Clutterbuck had come to be absolutely +distasteful to him. He did not believe in the Maria Clutterbuck +friendship,—either in its past or present existence, as described by +Madalina. Indeed, he did not put strong faith in anything that +Madalina said to him. In the handsome gentleman with two thousand a +year, he did not believe at all. But the handsome gentleman had only +been mentioned once in the course of his acquaintance with Miss +Demolines, whereas Maria Clutterbuck had come up so often! "Upon my +word I must wish you good-by," he said. "It is going on for eleven +o'clock, and I have to start to-morrow at seven."</p> + +<p>"What difference does that make?"</p> + +<p>"A fellow wants to get a little sleep, you know."</p> + +<p>"Go, then;—go and get your sleep. What a sleepy-headed generation it +is." Johnny longed to ask whether the last generation was less +sleepy-headed, and whether the gentleman with two thousand a year had +sat up talking all night before he pressed his foot for the last time +on his native soil; but he did not dare. As he said to himself +afterwards, "It would not do to bring the Bayswater romance too +suddenly to its termination!" "But before you go," she continued, "I +must say the word to you about that picture. Did you speak to Mr +Dalrymple?"</p> + +<p>"I did not. I have been so busy with different things that I have not +seen him."</p> + +<p>"And now you are going?"</p> + +<p>"Well,—to tell the truth, I think I shall see him to-night, in spite +of my being so sleepy-headed. I wrote him a line that I would look in +and smoke a cigar with him if he chanced to be at home!"</p> + +<p>"And that is why you want to go. A gentleman cannot live without his +cigar now."</p> + +<p>"It is especially at your bidding that I am going to see him."</p> + +<p>"Go then.—and make your friend understand that if he continues this +picture of his, he will bring himself to great trouble, and will +probably ruin the woman for whom he professes, I presume, to feel +something like friendship. You may tell him that Mrs Van Siever has +already heard of it."</p> + +<p>"Who told her?" demanded Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Never mind. You need not look at me like that. It was not I. Do you +suppose that secrets can be kept when so many people know them? Every +servant in Maria's house knows all about it."</p> + +<p>"As for that, I don't suppose Mrs Broughton makes any great secret of +it."</p> + +<p>"Do you think she has told Mr Broughton? I am sure she has not. I may +say I know she has not. Maria Clutterbuck is infatuated. There is no +other excuse to be made for her."</p> + +<p>"Good-by," said Johnny, hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"And you really are going?"</p> + +<p>"Well,—yes. I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"Go then. I have nothing more to say to you."</p> + +<p>"I shall come and call directly I return," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"You may do as you please about that, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that you won't be glad to see me again?"</p> + +<p>"I am not going to flatter you, Mr Eames. Mamma will be well by that +time, I hope, and I do not mind telling you that you are a favourite +with her." Johnny thought that this was particularly kind, as he had +seen so very little of the old lady. "If you choose to call upon +her," said Madalina, "of course she will be glad to see you."</p> + +<p>"But I was speaking of yourself, you know?" and Johnny permitted +himself for a moment to look tenderly at her.</p> + +<p>"Then from myself pray understand that I will say nothing to flatter +your self-love."</p> + +<p>"I thought you would be kinder just when I was going away."</p> + +<p>"I think I have been quite kind enough. As you observed yourself just +now, it is nearly eleven o'clock, and I must ask you to go away. Bon +voyage, and a happy return to you."</p> + +<p>"And you will be glad to see me when I am back? Tell that you will be +glad to see me."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you nothing of the kind. Mr Eames, if you do, I will be +very angry with you." And then he went.</p> + +<p>On his way back to his own lodgings he did call on Conway Dalrymple, +and in spite of his need for early rising, sat smoking with the +artist for an hour. "If you don't take care, young man," said his +friend, "you will find yourself in a scrape with your Madalina."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a scrape?"</p> + +<p>"As you walk away from Porchester Terrace some fine day, you will +have to congratulate yourself on having made a successful overture +towards matrimony."</p> + +<p>"You don't think I am such a fool as that comes to?"</p> + +<p>"Other men as wise as you have done the same sought of thing. Miss +Demolines is very clever, and I daresay you find it amusing."</p> + +<p>"It isn't so much that she's clever, and I can hardly say that it is +amusing. One gets awfully tired of it, you know. But a fellow must +have something to do, and that is as good as anything else."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have not heard that one young man levanted last year +to save himself from a breach of promise case?"</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether he had any money in Indian securities?"</p> + +<p>"What makes you ask that?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing particular."</p> + +<p>"Whatever little he had he chose to save, and I think I heard that he +went to Canada. His name was Shorter; and they say that, on the eve +of his going, Madalina sent him word that she had no objection to the +colonies, and that, under the pressing emergency of his expatriation, +she was willing to become Mrs Shorter with more expedition than +usually attends fashionable weddings. Shorter, however, escaped, and +has never been seen back again."</p> + +<p>Eames declared that he did not believe a word of it. Nevertheless, as +he walked home he came to the conclusion that Mr Shorter must have +been the handsome gentleman with Indian securities, to whom "no" had +been said once too often.</p> + +<p>While sitting with Conway Dalrymple, he had forgotten to say a word +about Jael and Sisera.</p> + + +<p><a name="c47" id="c47"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVII</h3> +<h3>Dr Tempest at the Palace<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Intimation had been sent from the palace to Dr Tempest of +Silverbridge of the bishop's intention that a commission should be +held by him, as rural dean, with other neighbouring clergymen, as +assessors with him, that inquiry might be made on the part of the +Church into the question of Mr Crawley's guilt. It must be understood +that by this time the opinion had become very general that Mr Crawley +had been guilty,—that he had found the cheque in his house, and that +he had, after holding it for many months, succumbed to temptation, +and applied it to his own purposes. But various excuses were made for +him by those who so believed. In the first place it was felt by all +who really knew anything of the man's character, that the very fact +of his committing such a crime proved him to be hardly responsible +for his actions. He must have known, had not all judgment in such +matters been taken from him, that the cheque would certainly be +traced back to his hands. No attempt had been made in the disposing +of it to dispose of it in such a way that the trace should be +obliterated. He had simply given it to a neighbour with a direction +to have it cashed, and had written his own name on the back of it. +And therefore, though there could be no doubt as to the theft in the +mind of those who supposed that he had found the cheque in his own +house, yet the guilt of the theft seemed to be almost annihilated by +the folly of the thief. And then his poverty, and his struggles, and +the sufferings of his wife, were remembered; and stories were told +from mouth to mouth of his industry in his profession, of his great +zeal among the brickmakers of Hoggle End, of acts of charity done by +him which startled the people of the district into admiration;—how +he had worked with his own hands for the sick poor to whom he could +not give relief in money, turning a woman's mangle for a couple of +hours, and carrying a boy's load along the lanes. Dr Tempest and +others declared that he had derogated from the dignity of his +position as an English parish clergyman by such acts; but, +nevertheless, the stories of these deeds acted strongly on the minds +of both men and women, creating an admiration for Mr Crawley which +was much stronger than the condemnation of his guilt.</p> + +<p>Even Mrs Walker and her daughter, and the Miss Prettymans, had so far +given way that they had ceased to asseverate their belief in Mr +Crawley's innocence. They contented themselves now with simply +expressing a hope that he would be acquitted by a jury, and that when +he should be so acquitted the thing might be allowed to rest. If he +had sinned, no doubt he had repented. And then there were serious +debates whether he might not have stolen the money without much sin, +being mad or half-mad,—touched with madness when he took it; and +whether he might not, in spite of such temporary touch of madness, be +well fitted for his parish duties. Sorrow had afflicted him +grievously; but that sorrow, though it had incapacitated him for the +management of his own affairs, had not rendered him unfit for the +ministrations of his parish. Such were the arguments now used in his +favour by the women around him; and the men were not keen to +contradict them. The wish that he should be acquitted and allowed to +remain in his parsonage was very general.</p> + +<p>When therefore it became known that the bishop had decided to put on +foot another investigation, with the view of bringing Mr Crawley's +conduct under ecclesiastical condemnation, almost everybody accused +the bishop of persecution. The world of the diocese declared that Mrs +Proudie was at work, and that the bishop himself was no better than a +puppet. It was in vain that certain clear-headed men among the +clergy, of whom Dr Tempest himself was one, pointed out that the +bishop after all might perhaps be right;—that if Mr Crawley were +guilty, and if he should be found to have been so by a jury, it might +be absolutely necessary that an ecclesiastical court should take some +cognizance of the crime beyond that taken by the civil law. "The +jury," said Dr Tempest, discussing the case with Mr Robarts and other +clerical neighbours,—"the jury may probably find him guilty and +recommend him to mercy. The judge will have heard his character, and +will have been made acquainted with his manner of life, and will deal +as lightly with the case as the law will allow him. For aught I know +he may be imprisoned for a month. I wish it might be for no more than +a day,—or an hour. But when he comes out from his month's +imprisonment,—how then? Surely it should be a case for +ecclesiastical inquiry, whether a clergyman who has committed a theft +should be allowed to go into his pulpit directly he comes out of +prison?" But the answer to this was that Mr Crawley always had been a +good clergyman, was a good clergyman at this moment, and would be a +good clergyman when he did come out of prison.</p> + +<p>But Dr Tempest, though he had argued in this way, was by no means +eager for the commencement of the commission over which he was to be +called upon to preside. In spite of such arguments as the above, +which came from the man's head when his head was brought to bear upon +the matter, there was a thorough desire within his heart to oppose +the bishop. He had no strong sympathy with Mr Crawley, as had others. +He would have had Mr Crawley silenced without regret, presuming Mr +Crawley to have been guilty. But he had a much stronger feeling with +regard to the bishop. Had there been any question of silencing the +bishop,—could it have been possible to take any steps in that +direction,—he would have been very active. It may therefore be +understood that in spite of his defence of the bishop's present +proceedings as to the commission, he was anxious that the bishop +should fail, and anxious to put impediments in the bishop's way, +should it appear to him that he could do so with justice. Dr Tempest +was well known among his parishioners to be hard and unsympathetic, +some said unfeeling also, and cruel; but it was admitted by those who +disliked him the most that he was both practical and just, and that +he cared for the welfare of many, though he was rarely touched by the +misery of one. Such was the man who was rector of Silverbridge and +rural dean in the district, and who was now called upon by the bishop +to assist him in making further inquiry as to this wretched cheque +for twenty pounds.</p> + +<p>Once at this period Archdeacon Grantly and Dr Tempest met each other +and discussed the question of Mr Crawley's guilt. Both these men were +inimical to the present bishop of the diocese, and both had perhaps +respected the old bishop beyond all other men. But they were +different in this, that the archdeacon hated Dr Proudie as a +partisan,—whereas Dr Tempest opposed the bishop on certain +principles which he endeavoured to make clear, at any rate to +himself. "Wrong!" said the archdeacon, speaking of the bishop's +intention of issuing a commission—"of course he is wrong. How could +anything right come from him or from her? I should be sorry to have +to do his bidding."</p> + +<p>"I think you are a little hard upon Bishop Proudie," said Dr Tempest.</p> + +<p>"One cannot be hard upon him," said the archdeacon. "He is so +scandalously weak, and she is so radically vicious, that they cannot +but be wrong together. The very fact that such a man should be a +bishop among us is to me terribly strong evidence of evil days +coming."</p> + +<p>"You are more impulsive than I am," said Dr Tempest. "In this case I +am sorry for the poor man, who is, I am sure, honest in the main. But +I believe that in such a case your father would have done just what +the present bishop is doing;—that he could have done nothing else; +and as I think that Dr Proudie is right I shall do all that I can to +assist him in the commission."</p> + +<p>The bishop's secretary had written to Dr Tempest, telling him of the +bishop's purpose; and now, in one of the last days of March, the +bishop himself wrote to Dr Tempest, asking him to come over to the +palace. The letter was worded most courteously, and expressed very +feelingly the great regret which the writer felt at being obliged to +take these proceedings against a clergyman in his diocese. Bishop +Proudie knew how to write such a letter. By the writing of such +letters, and by the making of speeches in the same strain, he had +become Bishop of Barchester. Now, in this letter, he begged Dr +Tempest to come over to him, saying how delighted Mrs Proudie would +be to see him at the palace. Then he went on to explain the great +difficulty which he felt, and great sorrow also, in dealing with this +matter of Mr Crawley. He looked, therefore, confidently for Dr +Tempest's assistance. Thinking to do the best for Mr Crawley, and +anxious to enable Mr Crawley to remain in quiet retirement till the +trial should be over, he had sent a clergyman over to Hogglestock, +who would have relieved Mr Crawley from the burden of the +church-services;—but Mr Crawley would have none of this relief. Mr +Crawley had been obstinate and overbearing, and had persisted in +claiming his right to his own pulpit. Therefore was the bishop +obliged to interfere legally, and therefore was he under the +necessity of asking Dr Tempest to assist him. Would Dr Tempest come +over on the Monday, and stay till the Wednesday?</p> + +<p>The letter was a very good letter, and Dr Tempest was obliged to do +as he was asked. He so far modified the bishop's proposition that he +reduced the sojourn at the palace by one night. He wrote to say that +he would have the pleasure of dining with the bishop and Mrs Proudie +on the Monday, but would return home on the Tuesday, as soon as the +business in hand would permit him. "I shall get on very well with +him," he said to his wife before he started; "but I am afraid of the +woman. If she interferes there will be a row." "Then, my dear," said +his wife, "there will be a row, for I am told that she always +interferes." On reaching the palace half-an-hour before dinner-time, +Dr Tempest found that other guests were expected, and on descending +to the great yellow drawing-room, which was used only on state +occasions, he encountered Mrs Proudie and two of her daughters +arrayed in a full panoply of female armour. She received him with her +sweetest smiles, and if there had been any former enmity between +Silverbridge and the palace, it was now all forgotten. She regretted +greatly that Mrs Tempest had not accompanied the doctor;—for Mrs +Tempest also had been invited. But Mrs Tempest was not quite as well +as she might have been, the doctor had said, and very rarely slept +away from home. And then the bishop came in and greeted his guest +with his pleasantest good humour. It was quite a sorrow to him that +Silverbridge was so distant, and that he saw so little of Dr Tempest; +but he hoped that that might be somewhat mended now, and that leisure +might be found for social delights;—to all which Dr Tempest said but +little, bowing to the bishop at each separate expression of his +lordship's kindness.</p> + +<p>There were guests there that evening who did not often sit at the +bishop's table. The archdeacon and Mrs Grantly had been summoned from +Plumstead, and had obeyed the summons. Great as was the enmity +between the bishop and the archdeacon, it had never quite taken the +form of open palpable hostility. Each, therefore, asked the other to +dinner perhaps once every year; and each went to the other, perhaps, +once in two years. And Dr Thorne from Chaldicotes was there, but +without his wife, who in these days was up in London. Mrs Proudie +always expressed a warm friendship for Mrs Thorne, and on this +occasion loudly regretted her absence. "You must tell her, Dr Thorne, +how exceedingly much we miss her." Dr Thorne, who was accustomed to +hear his wife speak of her dear friend Mrs Proudie with almost +unmeasured ridicule, promised that he would do so. "We are sorry the +Lufton's couldn't come to us," said Mrs Proudie,—not alluding to the +dowager, of whom it was well known that no earthly inducement would +have sufficed to make her put her foot within Mrs Proudie's +room;—"but one of the children is ill, and she could not leave him." +But the Greshams were there from Boxall Hill, and the Thornes from +Ullathorne, and, with the exception of a single chaplain, who +pretended to carve, Dr Tempest and the archdeacon were the only +clerical guests at the table. From all which Dr Tempest knew that the +bishop was anxious to treat him with special consideration on the +present occasion.</p> + +<p>The dinner was rather long and ponderous, and occasionally almost +dull. The archdeacon talked a good deal, but a bystander with an +acute ear might have understood from the tone of his voice that he +was not talking as he would have talked among friends. Mrs Proudie +felt this, and understood it, and was angry. She could never find +herself in the presence of the archdeacon without becoming angry. Her +accurate ear would always appreciate the defiance of episcopal +authority, as now existing in Barchester, which was concealed, or +only half concealed, by all the archdeacon's words. But the bishop +was not so keen, nor so easily roused to wrath; and though the +presence of his enemy did to a certain degree cow him, he strove to +fight against the feeling with renewed good-humour.</p> + +<p>"You have improved so upon the old days," said the archdeacon, +speaking of some small matter with reference to the cathedral, "that +one hardly knows the old place."</p> + +<p>"I hope we have not fallen off," said the bishop, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"We have improved, Dr Grantly," said Mrs Proudie, with great emphasis +on her words. "What you say is true. We have improved."</p> + +<p>"Not a doubt about that," said the archdeacon. Then Mrs Grantly +interposed, strove to change the subject, and threw oil upon the +waters.</p> + +<p>"Talking of improvements," said Mrs Grantly, "what an excellent row +of houses they have built at the bottom of High Street. I wonder who +is to live in them?"</p> + +<p>"I remember when that was the very worst part of the town," said Dr +Thorne.</p> + +<p>"And now they're asking seventy pounds apiece for houses which did +not cost above six hundred each to build," said Mr Thorne of +Ullathorne, with that seeming dislike of modern success which is +evinced by most of the elders of the world.</p> + +<p>"And who is to live in them?" asked Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"Two of them have been already taken by clergymen," said the bishop, +in a tone of triumph.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the archdeacon, "and the houses in the Close which used +to be the residences of the prebendaries have been leased out to +tallow-chandlers and retired brewers. That comes of the working of +the Ecclesiastical Commission."</p> + +<p>"And why not?" demanded Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"Why not, indeed, if you like to have tallow-chandlers next door to +you?" said the archdeacon. "In the old days, we would sooner have had +our brethren near to us."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing, Dr Grantly, so objectionable in a cathedral town +as a lot of idle clergymen," said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"It is beginning to be a question to me," said the archdeacon, +"whether there is any use in clergymen at all for the present +generation."</p> + +<p>"Dr Grantly, those cannot be your real sentiments," said Mrs Proudie. +Then Mrs Grantly, working hard in her vocation as a peacemaker, +changed the conversation again and began to talk of the American war. +But even that was made a matter of discord on church matters,—the +archdeacon professing an opinion that the Southerners were Christian +gentlemen, and the Northerners infidel snobs; whereas Mrs Proudie had +an idea that the Gospel was preached with genuine zeal in the +Northern States. And at each such outbreak the poor bishop would +laugh uneasily, and say a word or two to which no one paid much +attention. And so the dinner went on, not always in the most pleasant +manner for those who preferred continued social good-humour to the +occasional excitement of a half-suppressed battle.</p> + +<p>Not a word was said about Mr Crawley. When Mrs Proudie and the ladies +left the dining-room, the bishop strove to get up a little lay +conversation. He spoke to Mr Thorne about his game, and to Dr Thorne +about his timber, and even to Mr Gresham about his hounds. "It is not +so very many years, Mr Gresham," said he, "since the Bishop of +Barchester was expected to keep hounds himself," and the bishop +laughed at his own joke.</p> + +<p>"Your lordship shall have them back at the palace next season," said +young Frank Gresham, "if you will promise to do the county justice."</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the bishop. "What do you say, Mr Tozer?" Mr +Tozer was the chaplain on duty.</p> + +<p>"I have not least objection in the world, my lord," said Mr Tozer, +"to act as second whip."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you'll find them an expensive adjunct to the episcopate," +said the archdeacon. And then the joke was over; for there had been a +rumour, now for some years prevalent in Barchester, that Bishop +Proudie was not liberal in his expenditure. As Mr Thorne said +afterwards to his cousin the doctor, the archdeacon might have spared +that sneer. "The archdeacon will never spare the man who sits in his +father's seat," said the doctor. "The pity of it is that men who are +so thoroughly different in all their sympathies should ever be +brought into contact." "Dear, dear," said the archdeacon, as he stood +afterwards on the rug before the drawing-room fire, "how many rubbers +of whist I have seen played in this room." "I sincerely hope that you +will never see another played here," said Mrs Proudie. "I'm quite +sure that I shall not," said the archdeacon. For this last sally his +wife scolded him bitterly on their way home. "You know very well," +she said, "that the times are changed, and that if you were Bishop of +Barchester yourself you would not have whist played in the palace." +"I only know," said he, "that when we had the whist we had some true +religion along with it, and some good sense and good feeling also." +"You cannot be right to sneer at others for doing what you would do +yourself," said his wife. Then the archdeacon threw himself sulkily +into the corner of his carriage, and nothing more was said between +him and his wife about the bishop's dinner-party.</p> + +<p>Not a word was spoken that night at the palace about Mr Crawley; and +when that obnoxious guest from Plumstead was gone, Mrs Proudie +resumed her good-humour towards Dr Tempest. So intent was she on +conciliating him that she refrained even from abusing the archdeacon, +whom she knew to have been intimate for very many years with the +rector of Silverbridge. In her accustomed moods she would have broken +forth in loud anger, caring nothing for old friendships; but at +present she was thoughtful of the morrow, and desirous that Dr +Tempest should, if possible, meet her in a friendly humour when the +great discussion as to Hogglestock should be opened between them. But +Dr Tempest understood her bearing, and as he pulled on his nightcap +made certain resolutions of his own as to the morrow's proceedings. +"I don't suppose she will dare to interfere," he had said to his +wife; "but if she does, I shall certainly tell the bishop that I +cannot speak on the subject in her presence."</p> + +<p>At breakfast on the following morning there was no one present but +the bishop, Mrs Proudie, and Dr Tempest. Very little was said at the +meal. Mr Crawley's name was not mentioned, but there seemed to be a +general feeling among them that there was a task hanging over them +which prevented any general conversation. The eggs were eaten and the +coffee was drunk, but the eggs and the coffee disappeared almost in +silence. When these ceremonies had been altogether completed, and it +was clearly necessary that something further should be done, the +bishop spoke: "Dr Tempest," he said, "perhaps you will join me in my +study at eleven. We can then say a few words to each other about the +unfortunate matter on which I shall have to trouble you." Dr Tempest +said he would be punctual to his appointment, and then the bishop +withdrew, muttering something as to the necessity of looking at his +letters. Dr Tempest took a newspaper in his hand, which had been +brought in by a servant, but Mrs Proudie did not allow him to read +it. "Dr Tempest," she said, "this is a matter of most vital +importance. I am quite sure that you feel that it is so."</p> + +<p>"What matter, madam?" said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"This terrible affair of Mr Crawley's. If something be not done the +whole diocese will be disgraced." Then she waited for an answer, but +receiving none she was obliged to continue. "Of the poor man's guilt +there can, I fear, be no doubt." Then there was another pause, but +still the doctor made no answer. "And if he be guilty," said Mrs +Proudie, resolving that she would ask a question that must bring +forth some reply, "can any experienced clergyman think that he can be +fit to preach from the pulpit of a parish church? I am sure that you +must agree with me, Dr Tempest? Consider the souls of the people!"</p> + +<p>"Mrs Proudie," said he, "I think that we had better not discuss the +matter."</p> + +<p>"Not discuss it?"</p> + +<p>"I think that we had better not do so. If I understand the bishop +aright, he wishes that I should take some step in the matter."</p> + +<p>"Of course he does."</p> + +<p>"And therefore I must decline to make it a matter of common +conversation."</p> + +<p>"Common conversation, Dr Tempest! I should be the last person in the +world to make it a matter of common conversation. I regard this as by +no means a common conversation. God forbid that it should be a common +conversation. I am speaking now very seriously with reference to the +interests of the Church, which I think will be endangered by having +among her active servants a man who has been guilty of so base a +crime as theft. Think of it, Dr Tempest. Theft! Stealing money! +Appropriating to his own use a cheque for twenty pounds which did not +belong to him! And then telling such terrible falsehoods about it! +Can anything be worse, anything more scandalous, anything more +dangerous? Indeed, Dr Tempest, I do not regard this as any common +conversation." The whole of this speech was not made at once, +fluently, or without a break. From stop to stop Mrs Proudie paused, +waiting for her companion's words; but as he would not speak she was +obliged to continue. "I am sure that you cannot but agree with me, Dr +Tempest?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure that I shall not discuss it with you," said the +doctor, very brusquely.</p> + +<p>"And why not? Are you not here to discuss it?"</p> + +<p>"Not with you, Mrs Proudie. You must excuse me for saying so, but I +am not here to discuss any such matter with you. Were I to do so, I +should be guilty of a very great impropriety."</p> + +<p>"All these things are in common between me and the bishop," said Mrs +Proudie, with an air that was intended to be dignified, but which +nevertheless displayed her rising anger.</p> + +<p>"As to that I know nothing, but they cannot be in common between you +and me. It grieves me much that I should have to speak to you in such +a strain, but my duty allows me no alternative. I think, if you will +permit me, I will take a turn round the garden before I keep my +appointment with his lordship." And so saying he escaped from the +lady without hearing her further remonstrance.</p> + +<p>It still wanted an hour to the time named by the bishop, and Dr +Tempest used it in preparing for his withdrawal from the palace as +soon as his interview with the bishop should be over. After what had +passed he thought he would be justified in taking his departure +without bidding adieu formally to Mrs Proudie. He would say a word or +two, explaining his haste, to the bishop; and then, if he could get +out of the house at once, it might be that he would never see Mrs +Proudie again. He was rather proud of his success in their late +battle, but he felt that, having been so completely victorious, it +would be foolish in him to risk his laurels in the chance of another +encounter. He would say not a word of what had happened to the +bishop, and he thought it probable that neither would Mrs Proudie +speak of it,—at any rate till after he was gone. Generals who are +beaten out of the field are not quick to talk of their own repulses. +He, indeed, had not beaten Mrs Proudie out of the field. He had, in +fact, himself run away. But he had left his foe silenced; and with +such a foe, and in such a contest, that was everything. He put up his +portmanteau, therefore, and prepared for his final retreat. Then he +rang his bell and desired the servant to show him to the bishop's +study. The servant did so, and when he entered the room the first +thing he saw was Mrs Proudie sitting in an arm-chair near the window. +The bishop was also in the room, sitting with his arms upon the +writing-table, and his head upon his hands. It was very evident that +Mrs Proudie did not consider herself to have been beaten, and that +she was prepared to fight another battle. "Will you sit down, Dr +Tempest?" she said, motioning him with her hand to a chair opposite +to that occupied by the bishop. Dr Tempest sat down. He felt that at +the moment he had nothing else to do, and that he must restrain any +remonstrance that he might make till Mr Crawley's name should be +mentioned. He was almost lost in admiration of the woman. He had left +her, as he thought, utterly vanquished and prostrated by his +determined but uncourteous usage of her; and here she was, present +again on the field of battle as though she had never been even +wounded. He could see that there had been words between her and the +bishop, and that she had carried a point on which the bishop had been +very anxious to have his own way. He could perceive at once that the +bishop had begged her to absent herself and was greatly chagrined +that he should not have prevailed with her. There she was,—and as Dr +Tempest was resolved that he would neither give advice nor receive +instructions respecting Mr Crawley in her presence, he could only +draw upon his courage and his strategy for the coming warfare. For a +few moments no one said a word. The bishop felt that if Dr Tempest +would only begin, the work on hand might be got through, even in his +wife's presence. Mrs Proudie was aware that her husband should begin. +If he would do so, and if Dr Tempest would listen and then reply, she +might gradually make her way into the conversation; and if her words +were once accepted then she could say all that she desired to say; +then she could play her part and become somebody in the episcopal +work. When once she should have been allowed liberty of speech, the +enemy would be powerless to stop her. But all this Dr Tempest +understood quite as well as she understood it, and had they waited +till night he would not have been the first to mention Mr Crawley's +name.</p> + +<p>The bishop sighed aloud. The sigh might be taken as expressing grief +over the sin of the erring brother whose conduct they were then to +discuss, and was not amiss. But when the sigh with its attendant +murmurs had passed away it was necessary that some initiative step +should be taken. "Dr Tempest," said the bishop, "what are we to do +about this poor stiff-necked gentleman?" Still Dr Tempest did not +speak. "There is no clergyman in the diocese," continued the bishop, +"in whose prudence and wisdom I have more confidence than in yours. +And I know, too, that you are by no means disposed to severity where +severe measures are not necessary. What ought we to do? If he has +been guilty, he should not surely return to his pulpit after the +expiration of such punishment as the law of his country may award +him."</p> + +<p>Dr Tempest looked at Mrs Proudie, thinking that she might perhaps say +a word now; but Mrs Proudie knew her part better and was silent. +Angry as she was, she contrived to hold her peace. Let the debate +once begin and she would be able to creep into it, and then to lead +it,—and so she would hold her own. But she had met a foe as wary as +herself. "My lord," said the doctor, "it will perhaps be well that +you should communicate your wishes to me in writing. If it be +possible for me to comply with them I will do so."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—exactly; no doubt;—but I thought that perhaps we might better +understand each other if we had a few words of quiet conversation +upon the subject. I believe you know the steps that I +have<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>But here the bishop was interrupted. Dr Tempest rose from his chair, +and advancing to the table put both hands upon it. "My lord," he +said, "I feel myself compelled to say that which I would very much +rather leave unsaid, were it possible. I feel the difficulty, and I +may say delicacy, of my position; but I should be untrue to my +conscience and to my feeling of what is right in such matters, if I +were to take any part in a discussion on this matter in the presence +of—a lady."</p> + +<p>"Dr Tempest, what is your objection?" said Mrs Proudie, rising from +her chair, and coming also to the table, so that from thence she +might confront her opponent; and as she stood opposite to Dr Tempest +she also put both her hands upon the table.</p> + +<p>"My dear, perhaps you will leave us for a few moments," said the +bishop. Poor bishop! Poor weak bishop! As the words came from his +mouth he knew that they would be spoken in vain, and that, if so, it +would have been better for him to have left them unspoken.</p> + +<p>"Why should I be dismissed from your room without a reason?" said Mrs +Proudie. "Cannot Dr Tempest understand that a wife may share her +husband's counsels,—as she must share his troubles? If he cannot, I +pity him very much as to his own household."</p> + +<p>"Dr Tempest," said the bishop, "Mrs Proudie takes the greatest +possible interest in everything concerning the diocese."</p> + +<p>"I am sure, my lord," said the doctor, "that you will see how +unseemly it would be that I should interfere in any way between you +and Mrs Proudie. I certainly will not do so. I can only say again +that if you will communicate to me your wishes in writing, I will +attend to them,—if it be possible."</p> + +<p>"You mean to be stubborn," said Mrs Proudie, whose prudence was +beginning to give way under the great provocation to which her temper +was being subjected.</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam; if it is to be called stubbornness, I must be stubborn. +My lord, Mrs Proudie spoke to me on this subject in the +breakfast-room after you had left it, and I then ventured to explain +to her that in accordance with such light as I have on the matter, I +could not discuss it in her presence. I greatly grieve that I failed +to make myself understood by her,—as, otherwise, this unpleasantness +might have been spared."</p> + +<p>"I understood you very well, Dr Tempest, and I think you to be a most +unreasonable man. Indeed, I might use a much harsher word."</p> + +<p>"You may use any word you please, Mrs Proudie," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"My dear, I really think you had better leave us for a few minutes," +said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"No, my lord,—no," said Mrs Proudie, turning round upon her husband. +"Not so. It would be most unbecoming that I should be turned out of a +room in this palace by an uncourteous word from a parish clergyman. +It would be unseemly. If Dr Tempest forgets his duty, I will not +forget mine. There are other clergymen in the diocese besides Dr +Tempest who can undertake the very easy task of this commission. As +for his having been appointed rural dean I don't know how many years +ago, it is a matter of no consequence whatever. In such a preliminary +inquiry any three clergymen will suffice. It need not be done by the +rural dean at all."</p> + +<p>"My dear!"</p> + +<p>"I will not be turned out of this room by Dr Tempest;—and that is +enough."</p> + +<p>"My lord," said the doctor, "you had better write to me as I proposed +to you just now."</p> + +<p>"His lordship will not write. His lordship will do nothing of the +kind," said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"My dear!" said the bishop, driven in his perplexity beyond all +carefulness of reticence. "My dear, I do wish you wouldn't,—I do +indeed. If you would only go away!"</p> + +<p>"I will not go away, my lord," said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"But I will," said Dr Tempest, feeling true compassion for the +unfortunate man whom he saw writhing in agony before him. "It will +manifestly be for the best that I should retire. My lord, I wish you +good morning. Mrs Proudie, good morning." And so he left the room.</p> + +<p>"A most stubborn and a most ungentlemanlike man," said Mrs Proudie, +as soon as the door was closed behind the retreating rural dean. "I +do not think that in the whole course of my life I ever met with any +one so insubordinate and so ill-mannered. He is worse than the +archdeacon." As she uttered these words she paced about the room. The +bishop said nothing; and when she herself had been silent for a few +minutes she turned upon him. "Bishop," she said, "I hope that you +agree with me. I expect that you will agree with me in a matter that +is so of much moment to my comfort, and I may say to my position +generally in the diocese. Bishop, why do you not speak?"</p> + +<p>"You have behaved in such a way that I do not know that I shall ever +speak again," said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"What is that you say?"</p> + +<p>"I say that I do not know how I shall ever speak again. You have +disgraced me."</p> + +<p>"Disgraced you! I disgrace you! It is you that disgrace yourself by +saying such words."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Let it be so. Perhaps you will go away now and leave me +to myself. I have got a bad headache, and I can't talk any more. Oh +dear, oh dear, what will he think of it!"</p> + +<p>"And you mean to tell me that I have been wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you have been wrong,—very wrong. Why didn't you go away when I +asked you? You are always being wrong. I wish I had never come to +Barchester. In any other position I should not have felt it so much. +As it is I do not know how I can ever show my face again."</p> + +<p>"Not have felt what so much, Mr Proudie?" said the wife, going back +in the excitement of her anger to the nomenclature of old days. "And +this is to be my return for all my care in your behalf! Allow me to +tell you, sir, that in any position in which you may be placed I know +what is due to you, and that your dignity will never lose anything in +my hands. I wish that you were as well able to take care of it +yourself." Then she stalked out of the room, and left the poor man +alone.</p> + +<p>Bishop Proudie sat alone in his study throughout the whole day. Once +or twice in the course of the morning his chaplain came to him on +some matter of business, and was answered with a smile,—the peculiar +softness of which the chaplain did not fail to attribute the right +cause. For it was soon known throughout the household that there had +been a quarrel. Could he quite have made up his mind to do so,—could +he have resolved that it would be altogether better to quarrel with +his wife,—the bishop would have appealed to the chaplain, and have +asked at any rate for sympathy. But even yet he could not bring +himself to confess his misery, and to own himself to another to be +the wretch that he was. Then during the long hours of the day he sat +thinking of it all. How happy could he be if it were only possible +for him to go away, and become even a curate in a parish, without his +wife! Would there ever come to him a time of freedom? Would she ever +die? He was older than she, and of course he would die first. Would +it not be a fine thing if he could die at once, and thus escape from +his misery?</p> + +<p>What could he do, even supposing himself strong enough to fight the +battle? He could not lock her up. He could not even very well lock +her out of his room. She was his wife, and must have the run of the +house. He could not altogether debar her from the society of the +diocesan clergymen. He had, on this very morning, taken strong +measures with her. More than once or twice he had desired her to +leave the room. What was there to be done with a woman who would not +obey her husband,—who would not even leave him to the performance of +his own work? What a blessed thing it would be if a bishop could go +away from his home to his work every day like a clerk in a public +office,—as a stone-mason does! But there was no such escape for him. +He could not go away. And how was he to meet her again on this very +day?</p> + +<p>And then for hours he thought of Dr Tempest and Mr Crawley, +considering what he had better do to repair the shipwreck of the +morning. At last he resolved that he would write to the doctor; and +before he had again seen his wife, he did write his letter, and he +sent it off. In this letter he made no direct allusion to the +occurrence of the morning, but wrote as though there had not been any +fixed intention of a personal discussion between them. "I think it +will be better that there should be a commission," he said, "and I +would suggest that you should have four other clergymen with you. +Perhaps you will select two yourself out of your rural deanery; and, +if you do not object, I will name as the other two Mr Thumble and Mr +Quiverful, who are both resident in the city." As he wrote these two +names he felt ashamed of himself, knowing that he had chosen the two +men as being special friends of his wife, and feeling that he should +have been brave enough to throw aside all considerations of his +wife's favour,—especially at this moment, in which he was putting on +his armour to do battle against her. "It is not probable," he +continued to say in his letter, "that you will be able to make your +report until after the trial of this unfortunate gentleman shall have +taken place, and a verdict shall have been given. Should he be +acquitted, that, I imagine, should end the matter. There can be no +reason why we should attempt to go beyond the verdict of a jury. But +should he be found guilty, I think we ought to be ready with such +steps as it will be becoming for us to take at the expiration of any +sentence which may be pronounced. It will be, at any rate, expedient +that in such a case the matter should be brought before an +ecclesiastical court." he knew well as he wrote this, that he was +proposing something much milder than the course intended by his wife +when she had instigated him to take proceedings in the matter; but he +did not much regard that now. Though he had been weak enough to name +certain clergymen as assessors with the rural dean, because he +thought that by doing so he would to a certain degree conciliate his +wife,—though he had been so far a coward, yet he was resolved that +he would not sacrifice to her his own judgment and his own conscience +in his manner of proceeding. He kept no copy of his letter, so that +he might be unable to show her his very words when she should ask to +see them. Of course he would tell her what he had done; but in +telling her he would keep to himself what he had said as to the +result of an acquittal in a civil court. She need not yet be told +that he had promised to take such a verdict as sufficing also for an +ecclesiastical acquittal. In this spirit his letter was written and +sent off before he again saw his wife.</p> + +<p>He did not meet her till they came together in the drawing-room +before dinner. In explaining the whole truth as to circumstances as +they existed at the palace at that moment, it must be acknowledged +that Mrs Proudie herself, great as was her courage, and wide as were +the resources which she possessed within herself, was somewhat +appalled by the position of affairs. I fear that it may now be too +late for me to excite much sympathy in the mind of any reader on +behalf of Mrs Proudie. I shall never be able to make her virtues +popular. But she had virtues, and their existence now made her +unhappy. She did regard the dignity of her husband, and she felt at +the present moment that she had almost compromised it. She did also +regard the welfare of the clergymen around her, thinking of course in +a general way that certain of them who agreed with her were the +clergymen whose welfare should be studied, and that certain of them +who disagreed with her were the clergymen whose welfare should be +postponed. But now an idea made its way into her bosom that she was +not perhaps doing the best for the welfare of the diocese generally. +What if it should come to pass that all the clergymen of the diocese +should refuse to open their mouths in her presence on ecclesiastical +subjects, as Dr Tempest had done? This special day was not one on +which she was well contented with herself, though by no means on that +account was her anger mitigated against the offending rural dean.</p> + +<p>During dinner she struggled to say a word or two to her husband, as +though there had been no quarrel between them. With him the matter +had gone so deep that he could not answer her in the same spirit. +There were sundry members of the family present,—daughters, and a +son-in-law, and a daughter's friend who was staying with them; but +even in the hope of appearing to be serene before them he could not +struggle through his deep despondence. He was very silent, and to his +wife's words he answered hardly anything. He was courteous and gentle +with them all, but he spoke as little as was possible, and during the +evening he sat alone, with his head leaning on his hand,—not +pretending even to read. He was aware that it was too late to make +even an attempt to conceal his misery and his disgrace from his own +family.</p> + +<p>His wife came to him that night in his dressing-room in a spirit of +feminine softness that was very unusual with her. "My dear," said +she, "let us forget what occurred this morning. If there has been any +anger we are bound as Christians to forget it." She stood over him as +she spoke, and put her hand upon his shoulder almost caressingly.</p> + +<p>"When a man's heart is broken, he cannot forget it," was his reply. +She still stood by him, and still kept her hand upon him: but she +could think of no other words of comfort to say. "I will go to bed," +he said. "It is the best place for me." Then she left him, and he +went to bed.</p> + + +<p><a name="c48" id="c48"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVIII</h3> +<h3>The Softness of Sir Raffle Buffle<br /> </h3> + + +<p>We have seen that John Eames was prepared to start on his journey in +search of the Arabins, and have seen him after he had taken farewell +of his office and of his master there, previous to his departure; but +that matter of his departure had not been arranged altogether with +comfort as far as his official interests were concerned. He had been +perhaps a little abrupt in his mode of informing Sir Raffle Buffle +that there was a pressing cause for his official absence, and Sir +Raffle had replied to him that no private pressure could be allowed +to interfere with his public duties. "I must go, Sir Raffle, at any +rate," Johnny had said; "it is a matter affecting my family, and must +not be neglected." "If you intend to go without leave," said Sir +Raffle, "I presume you will first put your resignation into the hands +of Mr Kissing." Now Mr Kissing was the secretary to the Board. This +had been serious undoubtedly. John Eames was not specially anxious to +keep his present position as private secretary to Sir Raffle, but he +certainly had no desire to give up his profession altogether. He said +nothing more to the great man on that occasion, but before he left +the office he wrote a private note to the chairman expressing the +extreme importance of his business, and begging that he might have +leave of absence. On the next morning he received it back with a very +few words written across it. "It can't be done," were the few words +which Sir Raffle Buffle had written across the note from his private +secretary. Here was a difficulty which Johnny had not anticipated, +and which seemed to be insuperable. Sir Raffle would not have +answered him in that strain if he had not been very much in earnest.</p> + +<p>"I should send him a medical certificate," said Cradell, his friend +of old.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Eames.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that it's nonsense at all. They can't get over a medical +certificate from a respectable man; and everybody has got something +the matter with him of some kind."</p> + +<p>"I should go and let him do his worst," said Fisher, who was another +clerk. "It wouldn't be more than putting you down a place or two. As +to losing your present berth you don't mind that, and they would +never think of dismissing you."</p> + +<p>"But I do mind being put down a place or two," said Johnny, who could +not forget that were he so put down his friend Fisher would gain the +step which he would lose.</p> + +<p>"I should give him a barrel of oysters, and talk to him about the +Chancellor of the Exchequer," said FitzHoward, who had been private +secretary to Sir Raffle before Eames, and might therefore be supposed +to know the man.</p> + +<p>"That might have done very well if I had not asked him and been +refused first," said John Eames. "I'll tell what I'll do. I'll write +a long letter on a sheet of foolscap paper, with a regular margin, so +that it must come before the Board, and perhaps that will frighten +him."</p> + +<p>When he mentioned his difficulty on that evening to Mr Toogood, the +lawyer begged him to give up the journey. "It will only be sending a +clerk, and it won't cost so very much after all," said Toogood. But +Johnny's pride could not allow him to give way. "I'm not going to be +done about it," said he. "I'm not going to resign, but I will go even +though they may dismiss me. I don't think it will come to that, but +if it does it must." His uncle begged of him not to think of such an +alternative; but this discussion took place after dinner, and away +from the office, and Eames would not submit to bow his neck to +authority. "If it comes to that," said he, "a fellow might as well be +a slave at once. And what is the use of a fellow having a little +money if it does not make him independent? You may be sure of one +thing, I shall go; and that on the day fixed."</p> + +<p>On the next morning John Eames was very silent when he went into Sir +Raffle's room at the office. There was now only this day and another +before that fixed for his departure, and it was of course very +necessary that matters should be arranged. But he said nothing to Sir +Raffle during the morning. The great man himself was condescending +and endeavoured to be kind. He knew that his stern refusal had +greatly irritated his private secretary, and was anxious to show +that, though in the cause of public duty he was obliged to be stern, +he was quite willing to forget his sternness when the necessity for +it had passed away. On this morning, therefore, he was very cheery. +But to all his cheery good-humour John Eames would make no response. +Late in the afternoon, when most of the men had left the office, +Johnny appeared before the chairman for the last time that day with a +very long face. He was dressed in black, and had changed his ordinary +morning coat for a frock, which gave him an appearance altogether +unlike that which was customary to him. And he spoke almost in a +whisper, very slowly; and when Sir Raffle joked,—and Sir Raffle +often would joke,—he not only did not laugh, but he absolutely +sighed. "Is there anything the matter with you, Eames?" asked Sir +Raffle.</p> + +<p>"I am in great trouble," said John Eames.</p> + +<p>"And what is your trouble?"</p> + +<p>"It is essential for the honour of one of my family that I should be +at Florence by this day week. I cannot make up my mind what I ought +to do. I do not wish to lose my position in the public service, to +which, as you know, I am warmly attached; but I cannot submit to see +the honour of my family sacrificed!"</p> + +<p>"Eames," said Sir Raffle, "that must be nonsense;—that must be +nonsense. There can be no reason why you should always expect to have +your own way in everything."</p> + +<p>"Of course if I go without leave I shall be dismissed."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will. It is out of the question that a young man +should take the bit between his teeth in that way."</p> + +<p>"As for taking the bit between his teeth, Sir Raffle, I do not think +that any man was ever more obedient, perhaps I should say more +submissive, than I have been. But there must be a limit to +everything."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that, Mr Eames?" said Sir Raffle, turning in +anger upon his private secretary. But Johnny disregarded his anger. +Johnny, indeed, had made up his mind that Sir Raffle should be very +angry. "What do you mean, Mr Eames, by saying that there must be a +limit? I know nothing about limits. One would suppose that you +intended to make an accusation against me."</p> + +<p>"So I do. I think, Sir Raffle, that you are treating me with great +cruelty. I have explained to you that family +circumstances<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"You have explained nothing, Mr Eames."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have, Sir Raffle. I have explained to you that matters +relating to one of my family, which materially affect the honour of a +certain one of its members, demand that I should go at once to +Florence. You tell me that if I go I shall be dismissed."</p> + +<p>"Of course you must not go without leave. I never heard of such a +thing in all my life." And Sir Raffle lifted his hands towards +heaven, almost in dismay.</p> + +<p>"So I have drawn up a short statement of the circumstances, which I +hope may be read at the Board when the question of my dismissal comes +before it."</p> + +<p>"You mean to go, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir Raffle; I must go. The honour of a certain branch of my +family demands that I should do so. As I have for some time been so +especially under you, I thought it would be proper to show you what I +have said before I send my letter in, and therefore I have brought it +with me. Here it is." And Johnny handed to Sir Raffle an official +document of large dimensions.</p> + +<p>Sir Raffle began to be uncomfortable. He had acquired a character for +tyranny in the public service of which he was aware, though he +thought that he knew well that he had never deserved it. Some +official big-wig,—perhaps that Chancellor of the Exchequer of whom +he was so fond,—had on one occasion hinted to him that a little +softness of usage would be compatible with the prejudices of the age. +Softness was impossible to Sir Raffle; but his temper was +sufficiently under his control to enable him to encounter the rebuke, +and to pull himself up from time to time when he found himself +tempted to speak loud and to take things with a high hand. He knew +that a clerk should not be dismissed for leaving his office, who +could show that his absence had been caused by some matter really +affecting the interest of his family; and that were he to drive Eames +to go on this occasion without leave, Eames would be simply called in +to state what was the matter of moment which had taken him away. +Probably he had stated that matter of moment in this very document +which Sir Raffle was holding in his hand. But Sir Raffle was not +willing to be conquered by the document. If it was necessary that he +should give way, he would much prefer to give way,—out of his own +good-nature, let us say,—without looking at the document at all. "I +must, under the circumstances, decline to read this," said he, +"unless it should come before me officially," and he handed back the +paper.</p> + +<p>"I thought it best to let you see it if you pleased," said John +Eames. Then he turned round as though he were going to leave the +room; but suddenly he turned back again. "I don't like to leave you, +Sir Raffle, without saying good-by. I do not suppose we shall meet +again. Of course you must do your duty, and I do not wish you to +think that I have any personal ill-will against you." So saying, he +put out his hand to Sir Raffle as though to take a final farewell. +Sir Raffle looked at him in amazement. He was dressed, as has been +said, in black, and did not look like the John Eames of every day to +whom Sir Raffle was accustomed.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand this at all," said Sir Raffle.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid that it was only too plain," said John Eames.</p> + +<p>"And you must go?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes;—that's certain. I have pledged myself to go."</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't know anything of this matter that is so important +to your family."</p> + +<p>"No; you do not," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Can't you explain it to me then? so that I may have some reason,—if +there is any reason."</p> + +<p>Then John told the story of Mr Crawley,—a considerable portion of +the story; and in his telling of it, I think it probable that he put +more weight upon the necessity of his mission to Italy than it could +have fairly been made to bear. In the course of the narration Sir +Raffle did once contrive to suggest that a lawyer by going to +Florence might do the business at any rate as well as John Eames. But +Johnny denied this. "No, Sir Raffle, it is impossible; quite +impossible," he said. "If you saw the lawyer who is acting in the +matter, Mr Toogood, who is also my uncle, he would tell you the +same." Sir Raffle had already heard something of the story of Mr +Crawley, and was now willing to accept the sad tragedy of that case +as an excuse for his private secretary's somewhat insubordinate +conduct. "Under the circumstances, Eames, I suppose you must go; but +I think you should have told me all about it before."</p> + +<p>"I did not like to trouble you, Sir Raffle, with private business."</p> + +<p>"It is always best to tell the whole of a story," said Sir Raffle. +Johnny being quite content with the upshot of the negotiations +accepted this gentle rebuke in silence, and withdrew. On the next day +he appeared again at the office in his ordinary costume, and an idea +crossed Sir Raffle's brain that he had been partly "done" by the +affectation of a costume. "I'll be even with him some day yet," said +Sir Raffle to himself.</p> + +<p>"I've got my leave, boys," said Eames when he went out into the room +in which his three friends sat.</p> + +<p>"No!" said Cradell.</p> + +<p>"But I have," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean that old Huffle Scuffle has given it out of his own +head?" said Fisher.</p> + +<p>"Indeed he has," said Johnny; "and bade God bless me into the +bargain."</p> + +<p>"And you didn't give him the oysters?" said FitzHoward.</p> + +<p>"Not a shell," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"I'm blessed if you don't beat cock-fighting," said Cradell, lost in +admiration at his friend's adroitness.</p> + +<p>We know how John passed his evening after that. He went first to see +Lily Dale at her uncle's lodgings in Sackville Street, from thence he +was taken to the presence of the charming Madalina in Porchester +Terrace, and then wound up the night with his friend Conway +Dalrymple. When he got to his bed he felt himself to have been +triumphant, but in spite of his triumph he was ashamed of himself. +Why had he left Lily to go to Madalina? As he thought of this he +quoted to himself against himself Hamlet's often-quoted appeal of the +two portraits. How could he not despise himself in that he could find +any pleasure with Madalina, having a Lily Dale to fill his thoughts? +"But she is not fair to me," he said to himself,—thinking thus to +comfort himself. But he did not comfort himself.</p> + +<p>On the next morning early his uncle, Mr Toogood, met him at the Dover +Railway Station. "Upon my word, Johnny, you're a clever fellow," said +he. "I never thought that you'd make it all right with Sir Raffle."</p> + +<p>"As right as a trivet, uncle. There are some people, if you can only +get to learn the length of their feet, you can always fit them with +shoes afterwards."</p> + +<p>"You'll go on direct to Florence, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so. From what we have heard, Mrs Arabin must be either +there or at Venice, and I don't suppose I could learn from any one at +Paris at which town she is staying at this moment."</p> + +<p>"Her address is Florence:—poste restante, Florence. You will be sure +to find out at any of the hotels where she is staying, or where she +has been staying."</p> + +<p>"But when I have found her, I don't suppose she can tell me +anything," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Who can tell? She may or she may not. My belief is that the money +was her present altogether and not his. It seems that they don't mix +their moneys. He has always had some scruple about it because of her +son by a former marriage, and they always have different accounts at +their banker's. I found that out when I was at Barchester."</p> + +<p>"But Crawley was his friend."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Crawley was his friend; but I don't know that fifty-pound notes +have always been so plentiful with him. Deans' incomes ain't what +they were, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about that," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Well; they are not. And he has nothing of his own, as far as I can +learn. It would be just the thing for her to do,—to give the money +to his friend. At any rate she will tell you whether it was so or +not."</p> + +<p>"And then I will go on to Jerusalem, after him."</p> + +<p>"Should you find it necessary. He will probably be on his way back, +and she will know where you can hit him on the road. You must make +him understand that it is essential that he should be here some +little time before the trial. You can understand, Johnny;"—and as he +spoke Mr Toogood lowered his voice to a whisper, though they were +walking together on the platform of the railway station, and could +not possibly have been overheard by any one. "You can understand that +it may be necessary to prove that he is not exactly compos mentis, +and if so it will be essential that he should have some influential +friend near him. Otherwise that bishop will trample him into dust." +If Mr Toogood could have seen the bishop at this time and have read +the troubles of the poor man's heart, he would hardly have spoken of +him as being so terrible a tyrant.</p> + +<p>"I understand all that," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"So that, in fact, I shall expect to see you both together," said +Toogood.</p> + +<p>"I hope the dean is a good fellow."</p> + +<p>"They tell me he is a very good fellow."</p> + +<p>"I never did see much of bishops or deans as yet," said Johnny, "and +I should feel rather awe-struck travelling with one."</p> + +<p>"I should fancy that a dean is very much like anybody else."</p> + +<p>"But the man's hat would cow me."</p> + +<p>"I daresay you'll find him walking about Jerusalem with a wide-awake +on, and a big stick in his hand, probably smoking a cigar. Deans +contrive to get out of their armour sometimes, as the knights of old +used to do. Bishops, I fancy, find it more difficult. Well—good-by, +old fellow. I'm very much obliged to you for going,—I am, indeed. I +don't doubt but what we shall pull through, somehow."</p> + +<p>Then Mr Toogood went home to breakfast, and from his own house he +proceeded to his office. When he had been there an hour or two, there +came to him a messenger from the Income-tax Office, with an official +note addressed to himself by Sir Raffle Buffle,—a note which looked +to be very official. Sir Raffle Buffle presented his compliments to +Mr Toogood, and could Mr Toogood favour Sir R. B. with the present +address of Mr John Eames. "Old fox," said Mr Toogood;—"but then such +a stupid old fox! As if it was likely that I should have peached on +Johnny if anything was wrong." So Mr Toogood sent his compliments to +Sir Raffle Buffle, and begged to inform Sir R. B. that Mr John Eames +was away on very particular family business, which would take him in +the first instance to Florence;—but that from Florence he would +probably have to go on to Jerusalem without the loss of an hour. +"Stupid old fool!" said Mr Toogood, as he sent off his reply by the +messenger.</p> + + +<p><a name="c49" id="c49"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIX</h3> +<h3>Near the Close<br /> </h3> + + +<p>I wonder whether any one will read these pages who has never known +anything of the bitterness of a family quarrel? If so, I shall have a +reader very fortunate, or else very cold-blooded. It would be wrong +to say that love produces quarrels; but love does produce those +intimate relations of which quarrelling is too often one of the +consequences,—one of the consequences which frequently seem to be so +natural, and sometimes seem to be unavoidable. One brother rebukes +the other,—and what brothers ever lived together between whom there +is no such rebuking?—then some warm word is misunderstood and hotter +words follow and there is a quarrel. The husband tyrannizes, knowing +that it is his duty to direct, and the wife disobeys, or only +partially obeys, thinking that a little independence will become +her,—and so there is a quarrel. The father, anxious only for his +son's good, looks into that son's future with other eyes than those +of his son himself,—and so there is a quarrel. They come very +easily, these quarrels, but the quittance from them is sometimes +terribly difficult. Much of thought is necessary before the angry man +can remember that he too in part may have been wrong; and any attempt +at such thinking is almost beyond the power of him who is carefully +nursing his wrath, lest it cool! But the nursing of such quarrelling +kills all happiness. The very man who is nursing his wrath lest it +cool,—his wrath against one whom he loves perhaps the best of all +whom it has been given him to love,—is himself wretched as long as +it lasts. His anger poisons every pleasure of his life. He is sullen +at his meals, and cannot understand his book as he turns its pages. +His work, let it be what it may, is ill done. He is full of his +quarrel,—nursing it. He is telling himself how much he has loved +that wicked one, how many have been his sacrifices for that wicked +one, and that now that wicked one is repaying him simply with +wickedness! And yet the wicked one is at that very moment dearer to +him than ever. If that wicked one could only be forgiven how sweet +would the world be again! And yet he nurses his wrath.</p> + +<p>So it was in these days with Archdeacon Grantly. He was very angry +with his son. It is hardly too much to say that in every moment of +his life, whether waking or sleeping, he was thinking of the injury +that his son was doing him. He had almost come to forget the fact +that his anger had first been roused by the feeling that his son was +about to do himself an injury,—to cut his own throat. Various other +considerations had now added themselves to that, and filled not only +his mind but his daily conversation with his wife. How terrible would +be the disgrace to Lord Hartletop, how incurable the injury to +Griselda, the marchioness, should the brother-in-law of the one, and +the brother of the other, marry the daughter of a convicted thief! +"Of himself he would say nothing." So he declared constantly, though +of himself he did say a great deal. "Of himself he would say nothing, +though of course such a marriage would ruin him in the county." "My +dear," said his wife, "that is nonsense. That really is nonsense. I +feel sure there is not a single person in the county who would think +of the marriage in such a light." Then the archdeacon would have +quarrelled with his wife too, had she not been too wise to admit such +a quarrel. Mrs Grantly was very wise and knew that it took two +persons to make a quarrel. He told her over and over again that she +was in league with her son,—that she was encouraging her son to +marry Grace Crawley. "I believe that in your heart you wish it," he +once said to her. "No, my dear, I do not wish it. I do not think it a +becoming marriage. But if he does marry her, I should wish to receive +his wife in my house, and certainly should not quarrel with him." "I +will never receive her," the archdeacon had replied; "and as for him, +I can only say that in such a case I will make no provision for his +family."</p> + +<p>It will be remembered that the archdeacon had on a former occasion +instructed his wife to write to their son and tell him of his +father's determination. Mrs Grantly had so manoeuvred that a little +time had been gained, and that those instructions had not been +insisted upon in all their bitterness. Since that time Major Grantly +had renewed his assurance that he would marry Grace Crawley if Grace +Crawley would accept him,—writing on this occasion direct to his +father,—and had asked his father whether, in such a case, he was to +look forward to be disinherited. "It is essential that I should +know," the major had said, "because in such case I must make +immediate measures for leaving this place." His father had sent back +his letter, writing a few words at the bottom of it. "If you do as +you propose above, you must expect nothing from me." The words were +written in large round handwriting, very hurriedly, and the son when +he received them perfectly understood the mood of his father's mind +when he wrote them.</p> + +<p>Then there came tidings, addressed on this occasion to Mrs Grantly, +that Cosby Lodge was to be given up. Lady-day had come, and the +notice, necessarily to be given at that period, was so given. "I know +this will grieve you," Major Grantly had said, "but my father has +driven me to it." This, in itself, was a cause of great sorrow, both +to the archdeacon and to Mrs Grantly, as there were circumstances +connected with Cosby Lodge which made them think that it was a very +desirable residence for their son. "I shall sell everything about the +place and go abroad at once," he said in a subsequent letter. "My +present idea is that I shall settle myself at Pau, as my income will +suffice for me to live there, and education for Edith will be cheap. +At any rate I will not continue in England. I could never be happy +here in circumstances so altered. Of course I should not have left my +profession, unless I had understood from my father that the income +arising from it would not be necessary to me. I do not, however, mean +to complain, but simply tell you that I shall go." There were many +letters between the mother and son in those days. "I shall stay till +after the trial," he said. "If she will then go with me, well and +good; but whether she will or not, I shall not remain here." All this +seemed to Mrs Grantly to be peculiarly unfortunate, for had he not +resolved to go, things might even yet have righted themselves. From +what she could now understand of the character of Miss Crawley, whom +she did not know personally, she thought it probable that Grace, in +the event of her father being found guilty by the jury, would +absolutely and persistently refuse the offer made to her. She would +be too good, as Mrs Grantly put it to herself, to bring misery and +disgrace into another family. But should Mr Crawley be acquitted, and +should the marriage then take place, the archdeacon himself might +probably be got to forgive it. In either case there would be no +necessity for breaking up the house at Cosby Lodge. But her dear son +Henry, her best beloved, was obstinate and stiff-necked, and would +take no advice. "He is even worse than his father," she said, in her +short-lived anger, to her own father, to whom alone at this time she +could unburden her griefs, seeking consolation and encouragement.</p> + +<p>It was her habit to go over to the deanery at any rate twice a week +at this time, and on the occasion of one of the visits so made, she +expressed very strongly her distress at the family quarrel which had +come among them. The old man took his grandson's part through and +through. "I do not at all see why he should not marry the young lady +if he likes her. As for money, there ought to be enough without his +having to look for a wife with a fortune."</p> + +<p>"It is not a question of money, papa."</p> + +<p>"And as to rank," continued Mr Harding, "Henry will not at any rate +be going lower than his father did when he married you;—not so low +indeed, for at that time I was only a minor canon, and Mr Crawley is +in possession of a benefice."</p> + +<p>"Papa, all this is nonsense. It is indeed."</p> + +<p>"Very likely, my dear."</p> + +<p>"It is not because Mr Crawley is only perpetual curate of +Hogglestock, that the archdeacon objects to the marriage. It has +nothing to do with that at all. At the present moment he is in +disgrace."</p> + +<p>"Under a cloud, my dear. Let us pray that it may be only a passing +cloud."</p> + +<p>"All the world thinks that he was guilty. And then he is such a +man;—so singular, so unlike anybody else! You know, papa, that I +don't think very much of money, merely as money."</p> + +<p>"I hope not, my dear. Money is worth thinking of, but it is not worth +very much thought."</p> + +<p>"But it does give advantages, and the absence of such advantages must +be very much felt in the education of a girl. You would hardly wish +Henry to marry a young woman who, from want of money, had not been +brought up among ladies. It is not Miss Crawley's fault, but such has +been her lot. We cannot ignore these deficiencies, papa."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, my dear."</p> + +<p>"You would not, for instance, wish that Henry should marry a +kitchen-maid."</p> + +<p>"But is Miss Crawley a kitchen-maid, Susan?"</p> + +<p>"I don't quite say that."</p> + +<p>"I am told that she has been educated infinitely more than most of +the young ladies in the neighbourhood," said Mr Harding.</p> + +<p>"I believe that her papa has taught her Greek; and I suppose she has +learned something of French at that school in Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>"Then the kitchen-maid theory is sufficiently disposed of," said Mr +Harding, with mild triumph.</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean, papa. But the fact is, that it is impossible +to deal with men. They will never be reasonable. A marriage such as +this would be injurious to Henry; but it will not be ruinous; and as +to disinheriting him for it, that would be downright wicked."</p> + +<p>"I think so," said Mr Harding.</p> + +<p>"But the archdeacon will look at it as though it would destroy Henry +and Edith altogether, while you speak of it as though it were the +best thing in the world."</p> + +<p>"If the young people love each other, I think it would be the best +thing in the world," said Mr Harding.</p> + +<p>"But, papa, you cannot but think that his father's wish should go for +something," said Mrs Grantly, who, desirous as she was on the one +side to support her son, could not bear that her husband should, on +the other side, be declared to be altogether in the wrong.</p> + +<p>"I do not know, my dear," said Mr Harding; "but I do think, that if +the two young people are fond of each other, and if there is anything +for them to live upon, it cannot be right to keep them apart. You +know, my dear, she is the daughter of a gentleman." Mrs Grantly upon +this left her father almost brusquely, without speaking another word +on the subject; for, though she was opposed to the vehement anger of +her husband, she could not endure the proposition now made by her +father.</p> + +<p>Mr Harding was at this time living all alone in the deanery. For some +few years the deanery had been his home, and as his youngest daughter +was the dean's wife, there could no more comfortable resting-place +for the evening of his life. During the last month or two the days +had gone tediously with him; for he had had the large house all to +himself, and he was a man who did not love solitude. It is hard to +conceive that the old, whose thoughts have been all thought out, +should ever love to live alone. Solitude is surely for the young, who +have time before them for the execution of schemes, and who can, +therefore, take delight in thinking. In these days the poor old man +would wander about the rooms, shambling from one chamber to another, +and would feel ashamed when the servants met him ever on the move. He +would make little apologies for his uneasiness, which they would +accept graciously, understanding, after a fashion, why it was that he +was uneasy. "He ain't got nothing to do," said the housemaid to the +cook "and as for reading, they say that some of the young ones can +read all day sometimes, and all night too; but bless you, when you're +nigh eighty, reading don't go for much." The housemaid was right as +to Mr Harding's reading. He was not one who had read so much in his +earlier days as to enable him to make reading go far with him now +that he was near eighty. So he wandered about the room, and sat here +for a few minutes, and there for a few minutes, and though he did not +sleep much, he made the hours of the night as many as possible. Every +morning he shambled across from the deanery to the cathedral, and +attended the morning service, sitting in the stall which he had +occupied for fifty years. The distance was very short, not exceeding, +indeed, a hundred yards from a side-door in the deanery to another +side-door into the cathedral; but short as it was there had come to +be a question whether he should be allowed to go alone. It had been +feared that he might fall on his passage and hurt himself; for there +was a step here, and a step there, and the light was not very good in +the purlieus of the old cathedral. A word or two had been said once, +and the offer of an arm to help him had been made; but he had +rejected the proffered assistance, softly, indeed, but still +firmly,—and every day he tottered off by himself, hardly lifting his +feet as he went, and aiding himself on his journey by a hand upon the +wall when he thought that nobody was looking at him. But many did see +him, and they who knew him,—ladies generally of the city,—would +offer him a hand. Nobody was milder in his dislikings than Mr +Harding; but there were ladies in Barchester upon whose arm he would +always decline to lean, bowing courteously as he did so, and saying a +word or two of constrained civility. There were others whom he would +allow to accompany him home to the door of the deanery, with whom he +delighted to linger and chat if the morning was warm, and to whom he +would tell little stories of his own doings in the cathedral services +in the old days, when Bishop Grantly had ruled the diocese. Never a +word did he say against Bishop Proudie, or against Bishop Proudie's +wife; but the many words which he did say in praise of Bishop +Grantly,—who, by his showing, was surely one of the best of +churchmen who ever walked through this vale of sorrow,—were as +eloquent in dispraise of the existing prelate as could ever have been +any more clearly-pointed phrases. This daily visit to the cathedral, +where he would say his prayers as he had said them for so many years, +and listen to the organ, of which he knew all the power and every +blemish as though he himself had made the stops and fixed the pipes, +was the chief occupation of his life. It was a pity that it could not +have been made to cover a larger portion of the day.</p> + +<p>It was sometimes sad enough to watch him as he sat alone. He would +have a book near him, and for a while would keep it in his hands. It +would generally be some volume of good old standard theology with +which he had been, or supposed himself to have been, conversant from +his youth. But the book would soon be laid aside, and gradually he +would move himself away from it, and he would stand about in the +room, looking now out of a window from which he would fancy that he +could not be seen, or gazing up at some print which he had known for +years; and then he would sit down for a while in one chair, and for a +while in another, while his mind was wandering back into old days, +thinking of old troubles and remembering his old joys. And he had a +habit, when he was sure that he that he was not watched, of creeping +up to a great black wooden case, which always stood in one corner of +the sitting-room which he occupied in the deanery. Mr Harding, when +he was younger, had been a performer on the violoncello, and in this +case there was still the instrument from which he had been wont to +extract the sounds which he had so dearly loved. Now in these latter +days he never made any attempt to play. Soon after he had come to the +deanery there had fallen upon him an illness, and after that he had +never again asked for his bow. They who were around him,—his +daughter chiefly and her husband,—had given the matter much thought, +arguing with themselves whether or no it would be better to invite +him to resume the task he so loved; for of all the works of his life +this playing on the violoncello had been the sweetest to him; but +even before that illness his hand had greatly failed him, and the +dean and Mrs Arabin had agreed that it would be better to let the +matter pass without a word. He had never asked to be allowed to play. +He had expressed no regrets. When he himself would propose that his +daughter should "give them a little music,"—and he would make such a +proposition on every evening that was suitable,—he would never say a +word of those former performances at which he himself had taken a +part. But it had become known to Mrs Arabin, through the servants, +that he had once dragged the instrument forth from its case when he +had thought the house to be nearly deserted; and a wail of sounds had +been heard, very low, very short-lived, recurring now and again at +fitful intervals. He had at those times attempted to play, as though +with a muffled bow,—so that none should know of his vanity and +folly. Then there had been further consultations at the deanery, and +it had been again agreed that it would be best to say nothing to him +of his music.</p> + +<p>In these latter days of which I am now speaking he would never draw +the instrument out of its case. Indeed he was aware that it was too +heavy for him to handle without assistance. But he would open the +prison door, and gaze upon the thing that he loved, and he would pass +his fingers among the broad strings, and ever and anon he would +produce from one of them a low, melancholy, almost unearthly sound. +And then he would pause, never daring to produce two such notes in +succession,—one close upon the other. And these last sad moans of +the old fiddle were now known through the household. They were the +ghosts of the melody of days long past. He imagined that his visits +to the box were unsuspected,—that none knew of the folly of his old +fingers which could not keep themselves from touching the wires; but +the voice of the violoncello had been recognised by the servants and +by his daughter, and when that low wail was heard through the +house,—like the last dying note of a dirge,—they would all know +that Mr Harding was visiting his ancient friend.</p> + +<p>When the dean and Mrs Arabin had first talked of going abroad for a +long visit, it had been understood that Mr Harding should pass the +period of their absence with his other daughter at Plumstead; but +when the time came he begged of Mrs Arabin to be allowed to remain in +his old rooms. "Of course I shall go backwards and forwards," he had +said. "There is nothing I like so much as a change now and then." The +result had been that he had gone once to Plumstead during the dean's +absence. When he had thus remonstrated, begging go be allowed to +remain in Barchester, Mrs Arabin had declared her intention of giving +up her tour. In telling her father of this she had not said that her +altered purpose had arisen from her disinclination to leave him +alone;—but he had perceived that it was so, and had then consented +to be taken over to Plumstead. There was nothing, he said, which he +would like so much as going over to Plumstead for four or five +months. It had ended in his having his own way altogether. The +Arabins had gone upon their tour, and he was left in possession of +the deanery. "I should not like to die out of Barchester," he said to +himself in excuse to himself for his disinclination to sojourn long +under the archdeacon's roof. But, in truth, the archdeacon, who loved +him well and who, after a fashion, had always been good to him,—who +had always spoken of the connexion which had bound the two families +together as the great blessing of his life,—was too rough in his +greetings for the old man. Mr Harding had ever mixed something of +fear with his warm affection for his elder son-in-law, and now in +these closing hours of his life he could not avoid a certain amount +of shrinking from that loud voice,—a certain inaptitude to be quite +at ease in that commanding presence. The dean, his second son-in-law, +had been a modern friend in comparison with the archdeacon; but the +dean was more gentle with him; and then the dean's wife had ever been +the dearest to him of human beings. It may be a doubt whether one of +the dean's children was not now almost more dear, and whether in +these days he did not have more free communication with that little +girl than with any other human being. Her name was Susan, but he had +always called her Posy, having himself invented for her that +soubriquet. When it had been proposed to him to pass the winter and +spring at Plumstead, the suggestion had been made alluring by a +promise that Posy also should be taken to Mrs Grantly's house. But +he, as we have seen, had remained at the deanery, and Posy had +remained with him.</p> + +<p>Posy was now five years old, and could talk well, and had her own +ideas of things. Posy's eyes,—hers, and no others besides her +own,—were allowed to see the inhabitant of the big black case; and +now that the deanery was so nearly deserted, Posy's fingers had +touched the strings and had produced an infantine moan. "Grandpa, let +me do it again." Twang! It was not, however, in truth, a twang, but a +sound as of a prolonged dull, almost deadly, hum-m-m-m-m! On this +occasion the moan was not entirely infantine,—Posy's fingers having +been something too strong,—and the case was closed and locked, and +grandpa shook his head.</p> + +<p>"But Mrs Baxter won't be angry," said Posy. Mrs Baxter was the +housekeeper in the deanery, and had Mr Harding under her special +charge.</p> + +<p>"No, my darling; Mrs Baxter will not be angry, but we mustn't disturb +the house."</p> + +<p>"No," said Posy, with much of important awe in her tone; "we mustn't +disturb the house; must we, grandpapa?" And so she gave in her +adhesion to the closing of the case. But Posy could play +cat's-cradle, and as cat's-cradle did not disturb the house at all, +there was a good deal of cat's-cradle played in those days. Posy's +fingers were so soft and pretty, so small and deft, that the dear old +man delighted in taking the strings from them, and in having them +taken from his own by those tender little digits.</p> + +<p>On the afternoon after the conversation respecting Grace Crawley +which is recorded in the early part of this chapter, a messenger from +Barchester went over to Plumstead, and part of his mission consisted +of a note from Mrs Baxter to Mrs Grantly, beginning, "Honoured +Madam," and informing Mrs Grantly, among other things, that her +"respected papa," as Mrs Baxter called him, was not quite so well as +usual; not that Mrs Baxter thought there was much the matter. Mr +Harding had been to the cathedral service, as was usual with him, but +had come home leaning on a lady's arm, who had thought it well to +stay with him at the door till it had been opened for him. After that +"Miss Posy" had found him asleep, and had been unable,—or if not +unable, unwilling, to wake him. "Miss Posy" had come down to Mrs +Baxter somewhat in a fright, and hence this letter had been written. +Mrs Baxter thought that there was nothing "to fright" Mrs Grantly, +and she wasn't sure that she should have written at all only that +Dick was bound to go over to Plumstead with the wool; but as Dick was +going, Mrs Baxter thought it proper to send her duty, and to say that +to her humble way of thinking perhaps it might be best that Mr +Harding shouldn't go alone to the cathedral every morning. "If the +dear reverend gentleman was to get a tumble, ma'am," said the letter, +"it would be awkward." Then Mrs Grantly remembered that she had left +her father almost without a greeting on the previous day, and she +resolved that she would go over very early on the following +morning,—so early that she would be at the deanery before her father +should have gone to the cathedral.</p> + +<p>"He ought to have come over here, and not stayed there by himself," +said the archdeacon, when his wife told him of her intention.</p> + +<p>"It is too late to think of that now, my dear; and one can +understand, I think, that he should not like leaving the cathedral as +long as he can attend it. The truth is he does not like being out of +Barchester."</p> + +<p>"He would be much better here," said the archdeacon. "Of course you +can have the carriage and go over. We can breakfast at eight; and if +you can bring him back with you, do. I should tell him that he ought +to come." Mrs Grantly made no answer to this, knowing very well that +she could not bring herself to go beyond the gentlest persuasion with +her father, and on the next morning she was at the deanery by ten +o'clock. Half-past ten was the hour at which the service began. Mrs +Baxter contrived to meet her before she saw her father, and begged +her not to let it be known that any special tidings of Mr Harding's +failing strength had been sent from the deanery to Plumstead. "And +how is my father?" asked Mrs Grantly. "Well, then, ma'am," said +Baxter, "in one sense he's finely. He took a morsel of early lamb to +his dinner yesterday, and relished it ever so well,—only he gave +Miss Posy the best part of it. And then he sat with Miss Posy quite +happy for an hour or so. And then he slept in his chair; and you +know, ma'am, we never wakes him. And after that old Skulpit toddled +up from the hospital,"—this was Hiram's Hospital, of which +establishment, in the city of Barchester, Mr Harding had once been +the warden and kind master, as has been told in former chronicles of +the city,—"and your papa has said, ma'am, you know, that he is +always to see any of the old men when they come up. And Skulpit is +sly, and no better than he should be, and got money from your father, +ma'am, I know. And then he had just a drop of tea, and after that I +took him his glass of port wine with my own hands. And it touched me, +ma'am, so it did, when he said, 'Oh, Mrs Baxter, how good you are; +you know well what it is I like.' And then he went to bed. I listened +hard,—not from idle curiosity, ma'am, as you, who know me, will +believe, but just because it's becoming to know what he's about, as +there might be an accident, you know, ma'am." "You are very good, Mrs +Baxter, very good." "Thank ye, ma'am, for saying so. And so I +listened hard; but he didn't go to his music, poor gentleman; and I +think he had a quiet night. He doesn't sleep much at nights, poor +gentleman, but he's very quiet; leastwise he was last night." This +was the bulletin which Mrs Baxter gave to Mrs Grantly on that morning +before Mrs Grantly saw her father.</p> + +<p>She found him preparing himself for his visit to the cathedral. Some +year or two,—but no more,—before the date of which we are speaking, +he had still taken some small part in the service; and while he had +done so he had of course worn his surplice. Living so close to the +cathedral,—so close that he could almost walk out of the house into +the transept,—he had kept his surplice in his own room, and had gone +down in his vestment. It had been a bitter day to him when he had +first found himself constrained to abandon the white garment which he +loved. He had encountered some failure in the performance of the +slight clerical task allotted to him, and the dean had tenderly +advised him to desist. He did not utter one word of remonstrance. "It +will perhaps be better," the dean had said. "Yes,—it will be +better," Mr Harding had replied. "Few have had accorded to them the +high privilege of serving their master in His house for so many +years,—though few more humbly, or with lower gifts." But on the +following morning, and for nearly a week afterwards, he had been +unable to face the minor canon and the vergers, and the old women who +knew him so well, in his ordinary black garments. At last he went +down with the dean, and occupied a stall close to the dean's +seat,—far away from that in which he had sat for so many years,—and +in this seat he had said his prayers ever since that day. And now his +surplices were washed and ironed and folded and put away; but there +were moments in which he would stealthily visit them, as he also +stealthily visited his friend in the black wooden case. This was very +melancholy, and the sadness of it was felt by all those who lived +with him; but he never alluded himself to any of those bereavements +which age brought upon him. Whatever might be his regrets, he kept +them ever within his own breast.</p> + +<p>Posy was with him when Mrs Grantly went up into his room, holding for +him his hat and stick while he was engaged in brushing a suspicion of +dust from his black gaiters. "Grandpapa, here is aunt Susan," said +Posy. The old man looked up with something,—with some slightest sign +of that habitual fear which was always aroused within his bosom by +visitations from Plumstead. Had Mrs Arabin thoroughly understood the +difference in her father's feeling toward herself and toward her +sister, I think she would hardly have gone forth upon any tour while +he remained with her in the deanery. It is very hard sometimes to +know how intensely we are loved, and of what value our presence is to +those who love us! Mrs Grantly saw the look,—did not analyse it, did +not quite understand it,—but felt, as she had so often felt before, +that it was not altogether laden with welcome. But all this had +nothing to do with the duty on which she had come; nor did it, in the +slightest degree, militate against her own affection. "Papa," she +said, kissing him, "you are surprised to see me so early?"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, yes;—but very glad all the same. I hope everybody is +well at Plumstead?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody, thank you, papa."</p> + +<p>"That is well. Posy and I are getting ready for church. Are we not, +Posy?"</p> + +<p>"Grandpapa is getting ready. Mrs Baxter won't let me go."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, no,—not yet, Posy. When Posy is a great girl she can +go to the cathedral every day. Only then, perhaps, Posy won't want to +go."</p> + +<p>"I thought that, perhaps, papa, you would sit with me a little while +this morning, instead of going to morning prayers."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear,—certainly. Only I do not like not going;—for +who can say how often I may be able to go again? There is so little +left, Susan,—so very little left."</p> + +<p>After that she had not the heart to ask him to stay, and therefore +she went with him. As they passed down the stairs and out of the +doors she was astonished to find how weak were his footsteps,—how +powerless he was against the slightest misadventure. On this very day +he would have tripped at the upward step at the cathedral door had +she not been with him. "Oh, papa," she said, "indeed, indeed, you +should not come here alone." Then he apologised for his little +stumble with many words and much shame, assuring her that anybody +might trip on an occasion. It was purely an accident; and though it +was a comfort to him to have had her arm, he was sure that he would +have recovered himself even had he been alone. He always, he said, +kept quite close to the wall, so that there might be no mistake,—no +possibility of an accident. All this he said volubly, but with +confused words, in the covered stone passage leading into the +transept. And, as he thus spoke, Mrs Grantly made up her mind that +her father should never again go to the cathedral alone. He never did +go again to the cathedral—alone.</p> + +<p>When they returned to the deanery, Mr Harding was fluttered, weary, +and unwell. When his daughter left him for a few minutes he told Mrs +Baxter in confidence the story of his accident, and his great grief +that his daughter should have seen it. "Laws amercy, sir, it was a +blessing she was with you," said Mrs Baxter; "it was, indeed, Mr +Harding." Then Mr Harding had been angry, and spoke almost crossly to +Mrs Baxter; but, before she left the room, he found an opportunity of +begging her pardon,—not in a set speech to that effect, but by a +little word of gentle kindness, which she had understood perfectly. +"Papa," said Mrs Grantly to him as soon as she had succeeded in +getting both Posy and Mrs Baxter out of the room,—against the doing +of which, Mr Harding had manoeuvred with all his little impotent +skill,—"Papa, you must promise me that you will not go to the +cathedral again alone, till Eleanor comes home." When he heard the +sentence he looked at her with blank misery in his eyes. He made no +attempt at remonstrance. He begged for no respite. The word had gone +forth, and he knew that it must be obeyed. Though he would have +hidden the signs of his weakness had he been able, he would not +condescend to plead that he was strong. "If you think it wrong, my +dear, I will not go alone," he said. "Papa, I do; indeed I do. Dear +papa, I would not hurt you by saying it if I did not know that I am +right." He was sitting with his hand upon the table, and, as she +spoke to him, she put her hand upon his, caressing it. "My dear," he +said, "you are always right."</p> + +<p>She left him again for awhile, having some business out in the city, +and he was alone in his room for an hour. What was there left to him +now in the world? Old as he was, and in some things almost childish, +nevertheless, he thought of this keenly, and some half-realised +remembrance of "the lean and slippered pantaloon" flitted across his +mind, causing him a pang. What was there left to him now in the +world? Posy and cat's-cradle! Then, in the midst of his regrets, as +he sat with his back bent in his old easy-chair, with one arm over +the shoulder of the chair, and the other hanging loose by his side, +on a sudden there came across his face a smile as sweet as ever +brightened the face of man or woman. He had been able to tell himself +that he had no ground for complaint,—great ground rather for +rejoicing and gratitude. Had not the world and all in it been good to +him; had he not children who loved him, who had done him honour, who +had been to him always a crown of glory, never a mark for reproach; +had not his lines fallen to him in very pleasant places; was it not +his happy fate to go and leave it all amidst the good words and kind +loving cares of devoted friends? Whose latter days had ever been more +blessed than his? And for the future—? It was as he thought of this +that that smile came across his face,—as though it were already the +face of an angel. And then he muttered to himself a word or two. +"Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace. Lord, now +lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace."</p> + +<p>When Mrs Grantly returned she found him in jocund spirits. And yet +she perceived that he was so weak that when he left his chair he +could barely get across the room without assistance. Mrs Baxter, +indeed, had not sent to her too soon, and it was well that the +prohibition had come in time to prevent some terrible accident. +"Papa," she said, "I think you had better go with me to Plumstead. +The carriage is here, and I can take you home so comfortably." But he +would not allow himself to be taken on this occasion to Plumstead. He +smiled and thanked her, and put his hand into hers, and repeated his +promise that he would not leave the house on any occasion without +assistance, and declared himself specially thankful to her for coming +to him on that special morning;—but he would not be taken to +Plumstead. "When summer comes," he said, "then, if you will have me +for a few days!"</p> + +<p>He meant no deceit, and yet he had told himself within the last hour +that he should never see another summer. He could not tell even his +daughter that after such a life as this, after more than fifty years +spent in the ministrations of his darling cathedral, it specially +behoved him to die,—as he had lived,—at Barchester. He could not +say this to his eldest daughter; but had his Eleanor been at home, he +could have said it to her. He thought he might yet live to see his +Eleanor once again. If this could be given to him he would ask for +nothing more.</p> + +<p>On the afternoon of the next day, Mrs Baxter wrote another letter, in +which she told Mrs Grantly that her father had declared, at his usual +hour of rising that morning, that as he was not going to the +cathedral he would, he thought, lie in bed a little longer. And then +he had lain in bed the whole day. "And, perhaps, honoured madam, +looking at all things, it's best as he should," said Mrs Baxter.</p> + + +<p><a name="c50" id="c50"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER L</h3> +<h3>Lady Lufton's Proposition<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was now known throughout Barchester that a commission was to be +held by the bishop's orders, at which inquiry would be made,—that +is, ecclesiastical inquiry,—as to the guilt imputed to Mr Crawley in +the matter of Mr Soames's cheque. Sundry rumours had gone abroad as +to quarrels which had taken place on the subject among certain +clergymen high in office; but these were simply rumours, and nothing +was in truth known. There was no more discreet clergyman in all the +diocese than Dr Tempest, and not a word had escaped from him as to +the stormy nature of that meeting in the bishop's palace, at which he +had attended with the bishop,—and at which Mrs Proudie had attended +also. When it is said that the fact of this coming commission was +known to all Barsetshire, allusion is of course made to that portion +of the inhabitants of Barsetshire to which clerical matters were +dear;—and as such matters were specially dear to the inhabitants of +the parish of Framley, the commission was discussed very eagerly in +that parish, and was specially discussed by the Dowager Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>And there was a double interest attached to the commission in the +parish of Framley by the fact that Mr Robarts, the vicar, had been +invited by Dr Tempest to be one of the clergymen who were to assist +in making the inquiry. "I also to propose to ask Mr Oriel of +Greshamsbury to join us," said Dr Tempest. "The bishop wishes to +appoint the other two, and has already named Mr Thumble and Mr +Quiverful, who are both residents in the city. Perhaps his lordship +may be right in thinking it better that the matter should not be left +altogether in the hands of clergymen who hold livings in the diocese. +You are no doubt aware that neither Mr Thumble nor Mr Quiverful do +hold any benefice." Mr Robarts felt,—as everybody else did feel who +knew anything of the matter,—that Bishop Proudie was singularly +ignorant in his knowledge of men, and that he showed his ignorance on +this special occasion. "If he intended to name two such men he should +at any rate have named three," said Dr Thorne. "Mr Thumble and Mr +Quiverful will simply be outvoted on the first day, and after that +will give in their adhesion to the majority." "Mr Thumble, indeed!" +Lady Lufton had said, with much scorn in her voice. To her thinking, +it was absurd in the highest degree that such men as Dr Tempest and +her Mr Robarts should be asked to meet Mr Thumble and Mr Quiverful on +a matter of ecclesiastical business. Outvoted! Of course whey would +be outvoted. Of course they would be so paralysed by fear at finding +themselves in the presence of real gentlemen, that they would hardly +be able to vote at all. Old Lady Lufton did not in fact utter words +so harsh as these; but thoughts as harsh passed through her mind. The +reader therefore will understand that much interest was felt on the +subject at Framley Court, where Lady Lufton lived with her son and +daughter-in-law.</p> + +<p>"They tell me," said Lady Lufton, "that both the archdeacon and Dr +Tempest think it is right that a commission should be held. If so, I +have no doubt that it is right."</p> + +<p>"Mark says that the bishop could hardly do anything else," rejoined +Mrs Robarts.</p> + +<p>"I daresay not, my dear. I suppose the bishop has somebody near him +to tell him what he may do, and what he may not do. It would be +terrible to think of, if it were not so. But yet, when I hear that he +has named such men as Mr Thumble and Mr Quiverful, I cannot but feel +that the whole diocese is disgraced."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lady Lufton, that is such a strong word," said Mrs Robarts.</p> + +<p>"It may be strong, but it is not the less true," said Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>And from talking on the subject of the Crawleys, Lady Lufton soon +advanced, first to a desire for some action, and than to acting. "I +think, my dear, I will go over and see Mrs Crawley," said Lady Lufton +the elder to Lady Lufton the younger. Lady Lufton the younger had +nothing to urge against this; but she did not offer to accompany the +elder Lady. I attempted to explain in the early part of this story +that there still existed a certain understanding between Mrs Crawley +and Lord Lufton's wife, and that kindnesses occasionally passed from +Framley Court to Hogglestock Parsonage; but on this occasion young +Lady Lufton,—the Lucy Robarts who had once passed certain days of +her life with the Crawleys at Hogglestock,—did not choose to +accompany her mother-in-law; and therefore Mrs Robarts was invited to +do so. "I think it may comfort her to know that she has our +sympathy," the elder woman said to the younger as they made their +journey together.</p> + +<p>When the carriage stopped before the little wicket-gate, from whence +a path led through a ragged garden from the road to Mr Crawley's +house, Lady Lufton hardly knew how to proceed. The servant came to +the door of the carriage, and asked for her orders. "H—m—m, ha, +yes; I think I'll send in my card;—and say that I hope Mrs Crawley +will be able to see me. Won't that be best; eh, Fanny?" Fanny, +otherwise Mrs Robarts, said that she thought that would be the best; +and the card and message were carried in.</p> + +<p>It was happily the case that Mr Crawley was not at home. Mr Crawley +was away at Hoggle End, reading to the brickmakers, or turning the +mangles of their wives, or teaching them theology, or politics, or +history, after his fashion. In these days he spent, perhaps, the +happiest hours of his life down at Hoggle End. I say that his absence +was a happy chance, because, had he been at home, he would certainly +have said something, or done something, to offend Lady Lufton. He +would either have refused to see her, or when seeing her he would +have bade her hold her peace and not interfere with matters which did +not concern her, or,—more probable still,—he would have sat still +and sullen, and have spoken not at all. But he was away, and Mrs +Crawley sent out word by the servant that she would be most proud to +see her ladyship, if her ladyship would be pleased to alight. Her +ladyship did alight, and walked into the parsonage, followed by Mrs +Robarts.</p> + +<p>Grace was with her mother. Indeed Jane had been there also when the +message was brought in, but she fled into back regions, overcome by +shame as to her frock. Grace, I think, would have fled too, had she +not been bound in honour to support her mother. Lady Lufton, as she +entered, was very gracious, struggling with all the power of her +womanhood so to carry herself that there should be no outwardly +visible sign of her rank or her wealth,—but not altogether +succeeding. Mrs Robarts, on her first entrance, said only a word or +two of greeting to Mrs Crawley, and kissed Grace, whom she had known +intimately in early years. "Lady Lufton," said Mrs Crawley, "I am +afraid this is a very poor place for you to come to; but you have +known that of old, and therefore I need hardly apologise."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I like poor places best," said Lady Lufton. Then there was +a pause, after which Lady Lufton addressed herself to Grace, seeking +some subject for immediate conversation. "You have been down at +Allington, my dear, have you not?" Grace, in a whisper, said that she +had. "Staying with the Dales, I believe? I know the Dales well by +name, and I have always heard that they are charming people."</p> + +<p>"I like them very much," said Grace. And then there was another +pause.</p> + +<p>"I hope your husband is pretty well, Mrs Crawley?" said Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>"He is pretty well,—not quite strong. I daresay you know, Lady +Lufton, that he has things to vex him?" Mrs Crawley felt that it was +the need of the moment that the only possible subject of conversation +in that house should be introduced; and therefore she brought it in +at once, not loving the subject, but being strongly conscious of the +necessity. Lady Lufton meant to be good-natured, and therefore Mrs +Crawley would do all in her power to make Lady Lufton's mission easy +to her.</p> + +<p>"Indeed yes," said her ladyship; "we do know that."</p> + +<p>"We feel so much for you and Mr Crawley," said Mrs Robarts; "and we +are so sure that your sufferings are unmerited." This was not +discreet on the part of Mrs Robarts, as she was the wife of one of +the clergymen who had been selected to form the commission of +inquiry; and so Lady Lufton told her on the way home.</p> + +<p>"You are very kind," said Mrs Crawley. "We must only bear it with +such fortitude as God will give us. We are told that He tempers the +wind to the shorn lamb."</p> + +<p>"And so He does my dear," said the old lady, very solemnly. "So He +does. Surely you have felt that it is so?"</p> + +<p>"I struggle not to complain," said Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"I know that you struggle bravely. I hear of you, and I admire you +for it, and I love you." It was still the old lady who was speaking, +and now she had at last been roused out of her difficulty as to +words, and had risen from her chair, and was standing before Mrs +Crawley. "It is because you do not complain, because you are so great +and so good, because your character is so high, and your spirit so +firm, that I could not resist the temptation of coming to you. Mrs +Crawley, if you will let me be your friend, I shall be proud of your +friendship."</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship is too good," said Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"Do not talk to me after that fashion," said Lady Lufton. "If you do +I shall be disappointed, and feel myself thrown back. You know what I +mean." She paused for an answer; but Mrs Crawley had no answer to +make. She simply shook her head, not knowing why she did so. But we +may know. We can understand that she had felt that the friendship +offered to her by Lady Lufton was an impossibility. She had decided +within her own breast that it was so, though she did not know that +she had come to such decision. "I wish you to take me at my word, Mrs +Crawley," continued Lady Lufton. "What can we do for you? We know +that you are distressed."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—we are distressed."</p> + +<p>"And we know how cruel circumstances have been to you. Will you not +forgive me for being plain?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to forgive," said Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"Lady Lufton means," said Mrs Robarts, "that in asking you to talk +openly to her of your affairs, she wishes you to remember that— I +think you know what we mean," said Mrs Robarts, knowing very well +herself what she did mean, but not knowing at all how to express +herself.</p> + +<p>"Lady Lufton is very kind," said Mrs Crawley, "and so are you, Mrs +Robarts. I know how good you both are, and for how much it behoves me +to be grateful." These words were very cold, and the voice in which +they were spoken was very cold. They made Lady Lufton feel that it +was beyond her power to proceed with the work of her mission in its +intended spirit. It is ever so much easier to proffer kindness +graciously than to receive it with grace. Lady Lufton had intended to +say, "Let us be women together;—women bound by humanity, and not +separated by rank, and let us open our hearts freely. Let us see how +we may be of comfort to each other." And could she have succeeded in +this, she would have spread out her little plans of succour with so +loving a hand that she would have conquered the woman before her. But +the suffering spirit cannot descend from its dignity of reticence. It +has a nobility of its own, made sacred by many tears, by the flowing +of streams of blood from unseen wounds, which cannot descend from its +dais to receive pity and kindness. A consciousness of undeserved woe +produces a grandeur of its own, with which the high-souled sufferer +will not easily part. Baskets full of eggs, pounds of eleemosynary +butter, quarters of given pork, even second-hand clothing from the +wardrobe of some richer sister,—even money, unsophisticated money, +she could accept. She had learned to know that it was a portion of +her allotted misery to take such things,—for the sake of her +children and her husband,—and to be thankful for them. She did take +them, and was thankful; and in the taking she submitted herself to +the rod of cruel circumstances; but she could not even yet bring +herself to accept spoken pity from a stranger, and to kiss the +speaker.</p> + +<p>"Can we not do something to help you?" said Mrs Robarts. She would +not have spoken but that she perceived that Lady Lufton had completed +her appeal, and that Mrs Crawley did not seem prepared to answer it.</p> + +<p>"You have done so much to help us," said Mrs Crawley. "The things you +have sent us have been very serviceable."</p> + +<p>"But we mean something more than that," said Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what there is more," said Mrs Crawley. "A bit to eat +and something to wear;—that seems to be all that we have to care for +now."</p> + +<p>"But we were afraid that this coming trial must cause you so much +anxiety."</p> + +<p>"Of course it causes anxiety;—but what can we do? It must be so. It +cannot be put off, or avoided. We have made up our minds to it now, +and almost wish that it would come quicker. If it were once over I +think that he would be better whatever the result might be."</p> + +<p>Then there was another lull in the conversation, and Lady Lufton +began to be afraid that her visit would be a failure. She thought +that perhaps she might get on better if Grace were not in the room, +and she turned over in her mind various schemes for sending her away. +And perhaps her task would be easier if Mrs Robarts also could be +banished for a time. "Fanny, my dear," she said at last, boldly, "I +know you have a little plan to arrange with Miss Crawley. Perhaps you +will be more likely to be successful if you can take a turn with her +alone." There was not much subtlety in her ladyship's scheme; but it +answered the proposed purpose, and the two elder ladies were soon +left face to face, so that Lady Lufton had a fair pretext for making +another attempt. "Dear Mrs Crawley," she said, "I do so long to say a +word to you, but I fear that I may be thought to interfere."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Lady Lufton; I have no feeling of that kind."</p> + +<p>"I have asked your daughter and Mrs Robarts to go out because I can +speak more easily to you alone. I wish I could teach you to trust +me."</p> + +<p>"I do trust you."</p> + +<p>"As a friend, I mean;—as a real friend. If it should be the case, +Mrs Crawley, that a jury should give a verdict against your +husband,—what will you do then? Perhaps I ought not to suppose that +it is possible."</p> + +<p>"Of course we know that it is possible," said Mrs Crawley. Her voice +was stern, and there was in it a tone almost of offence. As she spoke +she did not look at her visitor, but sat with her face averted and +her arms akimbo on the table.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—it is possible," said Lady Lufton. "I suppose there is not one +in the county who does not truly wish it may not be so. But it is +right to be prepared for all alternatives. In such case have you +thought what you will do?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know what they would do to him," said she.</p> + +<p>"I suppose that for some time he +would be<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Put in prison," said Mrs Crawley, speaking very quickly, bringing +out the words with a sharp eagerness that was quite unusual to her. +"They will send him to gaol. Is it not so, Lady Lufton?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it would be so; not for long I should hope; but I presume +that such would be the sentence for some short period."</p> + +<p>"And I might not go with him?"</p> + +<p>"No, that would be impossible."</p> + +<p>"And the house, and the living; would they let him have them again +when he came out?"</p> + +<p>"Ah; that I cannot say. That will depend much, probably, on what +these clergymen will report. I hope he will not put himself in +opposition to them."</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I cannot say. It is probable that he may do so. It is +not easy for a man so injured as he has been, and one at the same +time so great in intelligence, to submit himself gently to such +inquiries. When ill is being done to himself or others he is very +prone to oppose it."</p> + +<p>"But these gentlemen do not wish to do him ill, Mrs Crawley."</p> + +<p>"I cannot say. I do not know. When I think of it I see that there is +nothing but ruin on every side. What is the use of talking of it? Do +not be angry, Lady Lufton, if I say that it is of no use."</p> + +<p>"But I desire to be of use,—of real use. If it should be the case, +Mrs Crawley, that your husband should be—detained at +Barchester<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"You mean imprisoned, Lady Lufton."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I mean imprisoned. If it should be so, then do you bring +yourself and your children,—all of them,—over to Framley, and I +will find a home for you while he is lost to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lady Lufton; I could not do that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can. You have not heard me yet. It would not be a comfort +to you in such a home as that to sit at table with people who are +partly strangers to you. But there is a cottage nearly adjoining to +the house, which you shall have all to yourself. The bailiff lived in +it once, and others have lived in it who belong to the place; but it +is empty now and it shall be made comfortable." The tears were now +running down Mrs Crawley's face, so that she could not answer a word. +"Of course it is my son's property, and not mine, but he has +commissioned me to say that it is most heartily at your service. He +begs that in such a case you will occupy it. And I beg the same. And +your old friend Lucy has desired me also to ask you in her name."</p> + +<p>"Lady Lufton, I could not do that," said Mrs Crawley through her +tears.</p> + +<p>"You must think better of it, my dear. I do not scruple to advise +you, because I am older than you, and have experience of the world." +This, I think, taken in the ordinary sense of the words, was a boast +on the part of Lady Lufton, for which but little true pretence +existed. Lady Lufton's experience of the world at large was not +perhaps extensive. Nevertheless she knew what one woman might offer +to another, and what one woman might receive from another. "You would +be better over with me, my dear, than you could be elsewhere. You +will not misunderstand me if I say that, under such circumstances, it +would do your husband good that you and your children should be under +our protection during his period of temporary seclusion. We stand +well in the county. Perhaps I ought not to say so, but I do not know +how otherwise to explain myself; and when it is known, by the bishop +and others, that you have come to us during that sad time, it will be +understood that we think well of Mr Crawley, in spite of anything a +jury may say of him. Do you see that, my dear? And we do think well +of him. I have known of your husband for many years, though I have +not personally had the pleasure of much acquaintance with him. He was +over at Framley once at my request, and I had great occasion then to +respect him. I do respect him; and I shall feel grateful to him if he +will allow you to put yourself and your children under my wing, as +being an old woman, should this misfortune fall upon him. We hope +that it will not fall upon him; but it is always well to be provided +for the worst."</p> + +<p>In this way Lady Lufton at last made her speech and opened out the +proposal with which she had come laden to Hogglestock. While she was +speaking Mrs Crawley's shoulder was still turned to her; but the +speaker could see that the quick tears were pouring themselves down +the cheeks of the woman whom she addressed. There was a downright +honesty of thorough-going well-wishing charity about the proposition +which overcame Mrs Crawley altogether. She did not feel for a moment +that it would be possible for her to go to Framley in such +circumstances as those which had been suggested. As she thought of it +all at the present moment, it seemed to her that her only appropriate +home during the terrible period which was coming upon her, would be +under the walls of the prison in which her husband would be +incarcerated. But she fully appreciated the kindness which had +suggested a measure, which, if carried into execution, would make the +outside world feel that her husband was respected in the county, +despite the degradation to which he was subjected. She felt all this, +but her heart was too full to speak.</p> + +<p>"Say that it shall be so, my dear," continued Lady Lufton. "Just give +me one nod of assent, and the cottage shall be ready for you should +it so chance that you should require it."</p> + +<p>But Mrs Crawley did not give the nod of assent. With her face still +averted, while the tears were still running down her cheeks, she +muttered but a word or two. "I could not do that, Lady Lufton; I +could not do that."</p> + +<p>"You know at any rate what my wishes are, and as you become calmer +you will think of it. There is quite time enough, and I am speaking +of an alternative which may never happen. My dear friend Mrs Robarts, +who is now with your daughter, wishes Miss Crawley to go over to +Framley Parsonage while this inquiry among the clergymen is going on. +They all say it is the most ridiculous thing in the world,—this +inquiry. But the bishop you know is so silly! We all think that if +Miss Crawley would go for a week or so to Framley Parsonage, that it +will show how happy we all are to receive her. It should be while Mr +Robarts is employed in his part of the work. What do you say, Mrs +Crawley? We at Framley are all clearly of opinion that it will be +best that it should be known that the people in the county uphold +your husband. Miss Crawley would be back, you know, before the trial +comes on. I hope you will let her come, Mrs Crawley?"</p> + +<p>But even to this proposition Mrs Crawley could give no assent, though +she expressed no direct dissent. As regarded her own feelings, she +would much preferred to have been left to live through her misery +alone; but she could not but appreciate the kindness which +endeavoured to throw over her and hers in their trouble the ægis of +first-rate county respectability. She was saved from the necessity of +giving a direct answer to this suggestion by the return of Mrs +Robarts and Grace herself. The door was opened slowly, and they crept +into the room as though they were aware that their presence would be +hardly welcomed.</p> + +<p>"Is the carriage there, Fanny?" said Lady Lufton. "It is almost time +for us to think of returning home."</p> + +<p>Mrs Robarts said that the carriage was standing within twenty yards +of the door.</p> + +<p>"Then I think we will make a start," said Lady Lufton. "Have you +succeeded in persuading Miss Crawley to come over to Framley in +April?"</p> + +<p>Mrs Robarts made no answer to this, but looked at Grace; and Grace +looked down upon the ground.</p> + +<p>"I have spoken to Mrs Crawley," said Lady Lufton, "and they will +think of it." Then the two ladies took their leave, and walked out to +their carriage.</p> + +<p>"What does she say about your plan?" Mrs Robarts asked.</p> + +<p>"She is too broken-hearted to say anything." Lady Lufton answered. +"Should it happen that he is convicted, we must come over and take +her. She will have no power to resist us in anything."</p> + + +<p><a name="c51" id="c51"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LI</h3> +<h3>Mrs Dobbs Broughton Piles Her Fagots<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The picture still progressed up in Mrs Dobbs Broughton's room, and +the secret was still kept, or supposed to be kept. Miss Van Siever +was, at any rate, certain that her mother had heard nothing of it, +and Mrs Broughton reported from day to day that her husband had not +as yet interfered. Nevertheless, there was in these days a great +gloom upon the Dobbs Broughton household, so much so that Conway +Dalrymple had more than once suggested to Mrs Broughton that the work +should be discontinued. But the mistress of the house would not +consent to this. In answer to these offers, she was wont to declare +in somewhat mysterious language, that any misery coming upon herself +was a matter of moment to nobody,—hardly even to herself, as she was +quite prepared to encounter moral and social death without delay, if +not an absolute physical demise; as to which latter alternative, she +seemed to think that even that might not be so far distant as some +people chose to believe. What was the cause of the gloom over the +house neither Conway Dalrymple nor Miss Van Siever understood, and to +speak the truth Mrs Broughton did not quite understand the cause +herself. She knew well enough, no doubt, that her husband came home +always sullen, and sometimes tipsy, and that things were not going +well in the City. She had never understood much about the City, being +satisfied with an assurance that had come to her in the early days +from her friends, that there was a mine of wealth in Hook Court, from +whence would always come for her use, house and furniture, a carriage +and horses, dresses and jewels, which latter, if not quite real, +should be manufactured of the best sham substitute known. Soon after +her brilliant marriage with Mr Dobbs Broughton, she had discovered +that the carriage and horses, and the sham jewels, did not lift her +so completely into a terrestrial paradise as she had taught herself +to expect that they would do. Her brilliant drawing-room, with Dobbs +Broughton for a companion, was not an elysium. But though she had +found out early in her married life that something was still wanting +to her, she had by no means confessed to herself that the carriage +and horses and sham jewels were bad, and it can hardly be said that +she had repented. She had endeavoured to patch up matters with a +little romance, and then had fallen upon Conway Dalrymple,—meaning +no harm. Indeed, love with her, as it never could have meant much +good, was not likely to mean much harm. That somebody should pretend +to love her, to which pretence she might reply by a pretence of +friendship,—this was the little excitement which she craved, and by +which she had once flattered herself that something of an elysium +might yet be created for her. Mr Dobbs Broughton had unreasonably +expressed a dislike to this innocent amusement,—very unreasonably, +knowing, as he ought to have known, that he himself did so very +little towards providing the necessary elysium by any qualities of +his own. For a few weeks this interference from her husband had +enhanced the amusement, giving an additional excitement to the game. +She felt herself to be a woman misunderstood and ill-used; and to some +women there is nothing so charming as a little mild ill-usage, which +does not interfere with their creature comforts, with their clothes, +or their carriage, or their sham jewels; but suffices to afford them +the indulgence of a grievance. Of late, however, Mr Dobbs Broughton +had become a little too rough in his language, and things had gone +uncomfortably. She suspected that Conway Dalrymple was not the only +cause of all this. She had an idea that Mr Musselboro and Mrs Van +Siever had it in their power to make themselves unpleasant, and that +they were exercising this power. Of his business in the City her +husband never spoke to her, nor she to him. Her own fortune had been +very small, some couple of thousand pounds or so, and she conceived +that she had no pretext on which she could, unasked, interrogate him +about his money. She had no knowledge that marriage of itself had +given her the right to such interference; and had such knowledge been +hers she would have had no desire to interfere. She hoped that the +carriage and sham jewels would be continued to her; but she did not +know how to frame any question on the subject. Touching the other +difficulty,—the Conway Dalrymple difficulty,—she had her ideas. The +tenderness of her friendship had been trodden upon by and outraged by +the rough foot of an overbearing husband, and she was ill-used. She +would obey. It was becoming to her as a wife that she should submit. +She would give up Conway Dalrymple, and would induce him,—in spite +of his violent attachment to herself,—to take a wife. She herself +would choose a wife for him. She herself would, with suicidal hands, +destroy the romance of her own life, since an overbearing, brutal +husband demanded that it should be destroyed. She would sacrifice her +own feelings, and do all in her power to bring Conway Dalrymple and +Clara Van Siever together. If, after that, some poet did not +immortalise her friendship in Byronic verse, she certainly would not +get her due. Perhaps Conway Dalrymple would himself become a poet in +order that this might be done properly. For it must be understood +that, though she expected Conway Dalrymple to marry, she expected +also that he should be Byronically wretched after his marriage on +account of his love for herself.</p> + +<p>But there was certainly something wrong over and beyond the Dalrymple +difficulty. The servants were not as civil as they used to be, and +her husband, when she suggested to him a little dinner-party, snubbed +her most unmercifully. The giving of dinner-parties had been his +glory, and she had made the suggestion simply with the view of +pleasing him. "If the world were going round the wrong way, a woman +would still want a party," he had said, sneering at her. "It was of +you I was thinking, Dobbs," she replied; "not of myself. I care +little for such gatherings." After that she retired to her own room +with a romantic tear in each eye, and told herself that, had chance +thrown Conway Dalrymple into her way before she had seen Dobbs +Broughton, she would have been the happiest woman in the world. She +sat for a while looking into vacancy, and thinking that it would be +very nice to break her heart. How should she set about it? Should she +take to her bed and grow thin? She would begin by eating no dinner +for ever so may days together. At lunch her husband was never +present, and therefore the broken heart could be displayed at dinner +without much positive suffering. In the meantime she would implore +Conway Dalrymple to get himself married with as little delay as +possible, and she would lay upon him her positive order to restrain +himself from any word of affection addressed to herself. She, at any +rate, would be pure, high-minded, and self-sacrificing,—although +romantic and poetic also, as was her nature.</p> + +<p>The picture was progressing, and so also, as it had come about, was +the love-affair between the artist and his model. Conway Dalrymple +had begun to think that he might, after all, do worse than make Clara +Van Siever his wife. Clara Van Siever was handsome, and undoubtedly +clever, and Clara Van Siever's mother was certainly rich. And, in +addition to this, the young lady herself began to like the man into +whose society she was thrown. The affair seemed to flourish, and Mrs +Dobbs Broughton should have been delighted. She told Clara, with a +very serious air, that she was delighted, bidding Clara, at the same +time, to be very cautious, as men were so fickle, and as Conway +Dalrymple, though the best fellow in the world, was not, perhaps, +altogether free from that common vice of men. Indeed, it might have +been surmised, from a word or two which Mrs Broughton allowed to +escape, that she considered poor Conway to be more than ordinarily +afflicted in that way. Miss Van Siever at first only pouted, and said +that there was nothing in it. "There is something in it, my dear, +certainly," said Mrs Dobbs Broughton; "and there can be no earthly +reason why there should not be a great deal in it." "There is nothing +in it," said Miss Van Siever, impetuously; "and if you will continue +to speak of Mr Dalrymple in that way, I must give up the picture." +"As for that," said Mrs Broughton, "I conceive that we are both of us +bound to the young man now, seeing that he has given so much time to +the work." "I am not bound to him at all," said Miss Van Siever.</p> + +<p>Mrs Broughton also told Conway Dalrymple that she was delighted,—oh, +so much delighted! He had obtained permission to come in one morning +before the time of sitting, so that he might work at his canvas +independently of his model. As was his custom, he made his own way +upstairs and commenced his work alone,—having been expressly told by +Mrs Broughton that she would not come to him till she brought Clara +with her. But she did go up to the room in which the artist was +painting, without waiting for Miss Van Siever. Indeed, she was at +this time so anxious as to the future welfare of her two young +friends that she could not restrain herself from speaking either to +the one of to the other, whenever any opportunity for such speech +came round. To have left Conway Dalrymple at work upstairs without +going to him was impossible to her. So she went, and then took the +opportunity of expressing to her friend her ideas as to his past and +future conduct.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is very good; very good, indeed," she said, standing before +the easel, and looking at the half-completed work. "I do not know +that you ever did anything better."</p> + +<p>"I never can tell myself till a picture is finished whether it is +going to be good or not," said Dalrymple, thinking really of his +picture and of nothing else.</p> + +<p>"I am sure this will be good," she said, "and I suppose it is because +you have thrown so much heart into it. It is not mere industry that +will produce good work, nor yet skill, nor even genius; more than +this is required. The heart of the artist must be thrust with all its +gushing tides into the performance." By this time he knew all the +tones of her voice and their various meanings, and immediately became +aware that at the present moment she was intent upon something beyond +the picture. She was preparing for a little scene, and was going to +give him some advice. He understood it all, but as he was really +desirous of working at his canvas, and was rather averse to having a +scene at the moment, he made a little attempt to disconcert her. "It +is the heart that gives success," she said, while he was considering +how he might best put an extinguisher upon her romance for the +occasion.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, Mrs Broughton; success depends on elbow-grease."</p> + +<p>"On what, Conway?"</p> + +<p>"On elbow-grease,—hard work, that is,—and I must work hard now if I +mean to take advantage of to-day's sitting. The truth is, I don't +give enough hours of work to it." And he leaned upon his stick, and +daubed away briskly at the background, and then stood for a moment +looking at his canvas with his head a little on one side, as though +he could not withdraw his attention for a moment from the thing he +was doing.</p> + +<p>"You mean to say, Conway, that you would rather that I should not +speak to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Mrs Broughton, I did not mean that at all."</p> + +<p>"I won't interrupt you at your work. What I have to say is perhaps of +no great moment. Indeed, words between you and me never can have much +importance now. Can they, Conway?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see that at all," said he, still working away with his +brush.</p> + +<p>"Do you not? I do. They should never amount to more,—they can never +amount to more than the common ordinary courtesies of life; what I +call the greetings and good-byings of conversation." She said this in +a low, melancholy tone of voice, not intending to be in any degree +jocose. "How seldom is it that conversation between ordinary friends +goes beyond that."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it does?" said Conway, stepping back and taking +another look at his picture. "I find myself talking to all manner of +people about all manner of things."</p> + +<p>"You are different from me. I cannot talk to all manner of people."</p> + +<p>"Politics, you know, and art, and a little scandal, and the wars, +with a dozen other things, make talking easy enough, I think. I grant +you this, that it is very often a great bore. Hardly a day passes +that I don't wish to cut out somebody's tongue."</p> + +<p>"Do you wish to cut out my tongue, Conway?"</p> + +<p>He began to perceive that she was determined to talk about herself, +and that there was no remedy. He dreaded it, not because he did not +like the woman, but from a conviction that she was going to make some +comparison between herself and Clara Van Siever. In his ordinary +humour he liked a little pretence at romance, and was rather good at +that sort of love-making which in truth means anything but love. But +just now he was really thinking of matrimony, and had on this very +morning acknowledged to himself that he had become sufficiently +attached to Clara Van Siever to justify him in asking her to be his +wife. In his present mood he was not anxious for one of those tilts +with blunted swords and half-severed lances in the lists of Cupid of +which Mrs Dobbs Broughton was so fond. Nevertheless, if she insisted +that he should now descend into the arena and go through the +paraphernalia of a mock tournament, he must obey her. It is the +hardship of men that when called upon by women for romance, they are +bound to be romantic, whether the opportunity serves them or not. A +man must produce romance, or at least submit to it, when duly +summoned, even though he should have a sore-throat or a headache. He +is a brute if he decline such an encounter,—and feels that, should +he so decline persistently, he will ever after be treated as a brute. +There are many Potiphar's wives who never dream of any mischief, and +Josephs who are very anxious to escape, though they are asked to +return only whisper for whisper. Mrs Dobbs Broughton had asked him +whether he wished that her tongue should be cut out, and he had of +course replied that her words had always been a joy to him,—never a +trouble. It occurred to him as he made his little speech that it +would only have served her right if he had answered her quite in +another strain; but she was a woman, and was young and pretty, and +was entitled to flattery. "They have always been a joy to me," he +said, repeating his last words as he strove to continue his work.</p> + +<p>"A deadly joy," she replied, not quite knowing what she herself +meant. "A deadly joy, Conway. I wish with all my heart that we had +never known each other."</p> + +<p>"I do not. I will never wish away the happiness of my life, even +should it be followed by misery."</p> + +<p>"You are a man, and if trouble comes upon you, you can bear it on +your own shoulders. A woman suffers more, just because another's +shoulders may have to bear the burden."</p> + +<p>"When she has got a husband, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—when she has a husband."</p> + +<p>"It's the same with a man when he has a wife." Hitherto the +conversation had had so much of milk-and-water in its composition +that Dalrymple found himself able to keep it up and go on with his +background at the same time. If she could only be kept in the same +dim cloud of sentiment, if the hot rays of the sun of romance could +be kept from breaking through the mist till Miss Van Siever should +come, it might still be well. He had known her to wander about within +the clouds for an hour together, without being able to find her way +into the light. "It's all the same with a man when he has got a +wife," he said. "Of course one has to suffer for two, when one, so to +say, is two."</p> + +<p>"And what happens when one has to suffer for three?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You mean when a woman has children?"</p> + +<p>"I mean nothing of the kind, Conway; and you must know that I do not, +unless your feelings are indeed blunted. But worldly success has, I +suppose, blunted them."</p> + +<p>"I rather fancy not," he said. "I think they are pretty nearly as +sharp as ever."</p> + +<p>"I know mine are. Oh, how I wish I could rid myself of them! But it +cannot be done. Age will not blunt them,—I am sure of that," said +Mrs Broughton. "I wish it would."</p> + +<p>He had determined not to talk about herself if the subject could be +in any way avoided; but now he felt that he was driven up into a +corner;—now he was forced to speak to her of her own personality. +"You have no experience yet as to that. How can you say what age will +do?"</p> + +<p>"Age does not go by years," said Mrs Dobbs Broughton. "We all know +that. 'His hair was grey, but not with years.' Look here, Conway," +and she moved back her tresses from off her temples to show him that +there were grey hairs behind. He did not see them; and had they been +very visible she might not perhaps have been so ready to exhibit +them. "No one can say that length of years has blanched them. I have +no secrets from you about my age. One should not be grey before one +has reached thirty."</p> + +<p>"I did not see a changed hair."</p> + +<p>"'Twas the fault of your eyes, then, for there are plenty of them. +And what is it has made them grey?"</p> + +<p>"They say hot rooms will do it."</p> + +<p>"Hot rooms! No, Conway, it does not come from heated atmosphere. It +comes from a cold heart, a chilled heart, a frozen heart, a heart +that is all ice." She was getting out of the cloud into the heat now, +and he could only hope that Miss Van Siever would come soon. "The +world is beginning with you, Conway, and you are as old as I am. It +is ending with me, and yet I am as young as you are. But I do not +know why I talk of all this. It is simply folly,—utter folly. I had +not meant to speak of myself; but I did wish to say a few words to +you of your own future. I suppose I may still speak to you as a +friend?"</p> + +<p>"I hope you will always do that."</p> + +<p>"Nay,—I will make no such promise. That I will always have a +friend's feeling for you, a friend's interest in your welfare, a +friend's triumph in your success,—that I will promise. But friendly +words, Conway, are sometimes misunderstood."</p> + +<p>"Never by me," said he.</p> + +<p>"No, not by you,—certainly not by you. I did not mean that. I did +not expect that you should misinterpret them." Then she laughed +hysterically,—a little low, gurgling, hysterical laugh; and after +that she wiped her eyes, and then she smiled, and then she put her +hand very gently upon his shoulder. "Thank God, Conway, we are quite +safe there,—are we not?"</p> + +<p>He had made a blunder, and it was necessary that he should correct +it. His watch was lying in the trough of his easel, and he looked at +it and wondered why Miss Van Siever was not there. He had tripped, +and he must make a little struggle and recover his step. "As I said +before, it shall never be misunderstood by me. I have never been vain +enough to suppose for a moment that there was any other feeling,—not +for a moment. You women can be so careful, while we men are always +off our guard! A man loves because he cannot help it; but a woman has +been careful, and answers him—with friendship. Perhaps I am wrong to +say that I never thought of winning anything more; but I never think +of winning more now." Why the mischief didn't Miss Van Siever come! +In another five minutes, despite himself, he would be on his knees, +making a mock declaration, and she would be pouring forth the vial of +her mock wrath, or giving him mock counsel as to the restraint of his +passion. He had gone through it all before, and was tired of it; but +for his life he did not know how to help himself.</p> + +<p>"Conway," said she, gravely, "how dare you address me in such +language."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is very wrong; I know that."</p> + +<p>"I'm not speaking of myself now. I have learned to think so little of +myself, as even to be indifferent to the feeling of the injury you +are doing me. My life is a blank, and I almost think that nothing can +hurt me further. I have not heart left enough to break; no, not +enough to be broken. It is not of myself that I am thinking, when I +ask you how you dare to address my in such language. Do you not know +that it is an injury to another?"</p> + +<p>"To what other?" asked Conway Dalrymple, whose mind was becoming +rather confused, and who was not quite sure whether the other one was +Mr Dobbs Broughton, or somebody else.</p> + +<p>"To that poor girl who is coming here now, who is devoted to you, and +to whom, I do not doubt, you have uttered words which ought to have +made it impossible for you to speak to me as you spoke not a moment +since."</p> + +<p>Things were becoming very grave and difficult. They would have been +very grave, indeed, had not some god saved him by sending Miss Van +Siever to his rescue at this moment. He was beginning to think what +he would say in answer to the accusation now made, when his eager ear +caught the sound of her step upon the stairs; and before the pause in +the conversation which the circumstances admitted had given place to +the necessity for further speech, Miss Van Siever had knocked at the +door and had entered the room. He was rejoiced, and I think that Mrs +Broughton did not regret the interference. It is always well that +these little dangerous scenes should be brought to sudden ends. The +last details of such romances, if drawn out to their natural +conclusions, are apt to be uncomfortable, if not dull. She did not +want him to go down on his knees, knowing that the getting up again +is always awkward.</p> + +<p>"Clara, I began to think you were never coming," said Mrs Broughton, +with her sweetest smile.</p> + +<p>"I began to think so myself also," said Clara. "And I believe this +must be the last sitting, or, at any rate, the last but one."</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter at home?" said Mrs Broughton, clasping her +hands together.</p> + +<p>"Nothing very much; mamma asked me a question or two this morning, +and I said I was coming here. Had she asked me why, I should have +told her."</p> + +<p>"But what did she ask? What did she say?"</p> + +<p>"She does not always make herself very intelligible. She complains +without telling you what she complains of. But she muttered something +about artists which was not complimentary, and I suppose therefore +that she has a suspicion. She stayed ever so late this morning, and +we left the house together. She will ask some direct question +to-night, or before long, and then there will be an end of it."</p> + +<p>"Let us make the best of our time, then," said Dalrymple; and the +sitting was arranged; Miss Van Siever went down on her knees with her +hammer in her hand, and the work began. Mrs Broughton had twisted a +turban round Clara's head, as she always did on these occasions, and +assisted to arrange the drapery. She used to tell herself as she did +so, that she was like Isaac, piling the fagots for her own sacrifice. +Only Isaac had piled them in ignorance, and she piled them conscious +of the sacrificial flames. And Isaac had been saved; whereas it was +impossible that the catching of any ram in any thicket could save +her. But, nevertheless, she arranged the drapery with all her skill, +piling the fagots ever so high for her own pyre. In the meantime +Conway Dalrymple painted away, thinking more of his picture than he +did of one woman or of the other.</p> + +<p>After a while when Mrs Broughton had piled the fagots as high as she +could pile them, she got up from her seat and prepared to leave the +room. Much of the piling consisted, of course, in her own absence +during a portion of these sittings. "Conway," she said, as she went, +"if this is to be the last sitting, or the last but one, you should +make the most of it." Then she threw upon him a very peculiar glance +over the head of the kneeling Jael, and withdrew. Jael, who in those +moments would be thinking more of the fatigue of her position than of +anything else, did not at all take home to herself the peculiar +meaning of her friend's words. Conway Dalrymple understood them +thoroughly, and thought that he might as well take the advice given +to him. He had made up his mind to propose to Miss Van Siever, and +why should he not do so now? He went on with his brush for a couple +of minutes without saying a word, working as well as he could work, +and then resolved that he would at once begin the other task. "Miss +Van Siever," he said, "I am afraid you are tired?"</p> + +<p>"Not more than usually tired. It is fatiguing to be slaying Sisera by +the hour together. I do get to hate this block." The block was the +dummy by which the form of Sisera was supposed to be typified.</p> + +<p>"Another sitting will about finish it," said he, "so that you need +not positively distress yourself now. Will you rest yourself for a +minute or two?" He had already perceived that the attitude in which +Clara was posed before him was not one in which an offer of marriage +could be received and replied to with advantage.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I am not tired," said Clara, not changing the fixed +glance of national wrath with which she regarded her wooden Sisera as +she held her hammer on high.</p> + +<p>"But I am. There; we will rest for a moment." Dalrymple was aware +that Mrs Dobbs Broughton, though she was very assiduous in piling her +fagots, never piled them for long together. If he did not make haste +she would be back upon them before he could get his word spoken. When +he put down his brush, and got up from his chair, and stretched out +his arm as a man does when he ceases for a moment from his work, +Clara of course got up also, and seated herself. She was used to her +turban and her drapery, and therefore thought not of it at all; and +he also was used to it, seeing her in it two or three times a week; +but now that he intended to accomplish a special purpose, the turban +and the drapery seemed to be in the way. "I do so hope you will like +the picture," he said, as he was thinking of this.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall. But you will understand that it is natural +that a girl should not like herself in such a portraiture as that."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why. I can understand that you specially should not +like the picture; but I think that most women in London in your place +would at any rate say that they did."</p> + +<p>"Are you angry with me?"</p> + +<p>"What; for telling the truth? No, indeed." He was standing opposite +to his easel, looking at the canvas, shifting his head about so as to +change the lights, and observing critically this blemish and that; +and yet he was all the while thinking how he had best carry out his +purpose. "It will have been a prosperous picture to me," he said at +last, "if it leads to the success of which I am ambitious."</p> + +<p>"I am told that all you do is successful now,—merely because you do +it. That is the worst of success."</p> + +<p>"What is the worst of success?"</p> + +<p>"That when won by merit it leads to further success, for the gaining +of which no merit is necessary."</p> + +<p>"It may be so in my case. If it is not, I shall have a very poor +chance. Clara, I think you must know that I am not talking about my +pictures."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I am not. As for success in my profession, far as I am from +thinking I merit it, I feel tolerably certain that I shall obtain +it."</p> + +<p>"You have obtained it."</p> + +<p>"I am in the way of doing so. Perhaps one out of ten struggling +artists is successful, and for him the profession is very charming. +It is certainly a sad feeling that there is so much of chance in the +distribution of the prizes. It is a lottery. But one cannot complain +of that when one has drawn the prize." Dalrymple was not a man +without self-possession, nor was he readily abashed, but he found it +easier to talk of his possession than to make his offer. The turban +was his difficulty. He had told himself over and over again within +the last five minutes, that he would have long since said what he had +to say had it not been for the turban. He had been painting all his +life from living models,—from women dressed up in this or that +costume, to suit the necessities of his picture,—but he had never +made love to any of them. They had been simply models to him, and now +he found that there was a difficulty. "Of that prize," he said, "I +have made myself tolerably sure; but as to the other prize, I do not +know. I wonder whether I am to have that." Of course Miss Van Siever +understood well what was the prize of which he was speaking; and as +she was a young woman with a will and purpose of her own, no doubt +she was already prepared with an answer. But it was necessary that +the question should be put to her in properly distinct terms. Conway +Dalrymple certainly had not put his question in properly distinct +terms at present. She did not choose to make any answer to his last +words; and therefore simply suggested that as time was pressing he +had better go on with his work. "I am quite ready now," said she.</p> + +<p>"Stop half a moment. How much more you are thinking of the picture +than I am! I do not care twopence for the picture. I will slit the +canvas from top to bottom without a groan,—without a single inner +groan,—if you will let me."</p> + +<p>"For heaven's sake do nothing of the kind! Why should you?"</p> + +<p>"Just to show you that it is not for the sake of the picture that I +come here. Clara<span class="nowrap">—"</span> +Then the door was opened, and Isaac appeared, +very weary, having been piling fagots with assiduity, till human +nature could pile no more. Conway Dalrymple, who had made his way +almost up to Clara's seat, turned round sharply towards his easel, in +anger at having been disturbed. He should have been more grateful for +all that his Isaac had done for him, and have recognised the fact +that the fault had been with himself. Mrs Broughton had been twelve +minutes out of the room. She had counted them to be fifteen,—having +no doubt made a mistake as to three,—and had told herself that with +such a one as Conway Dalrymple, with so much of the work ready done +to his hand for him, fifteen minutes should have been amply +sufficient. When we reflect what her own thoughts must have been +during the interval,—what it is to have to pile up such fagots as +those, how she was, as it were, giving away a fresh morsel of her own +heart during each minute that she allowed Clara and Conway Dalrymple +to remain together, it cannot surprise us that her eyes should have +become dizzy, and that she should not have counted the minutes with +accurate correctness. Dalrymple turned to his picture angrily, but +Miss Van Siever kept her seat and did not show the slightest emotion.</p> + +<p>"My friends," said Mrs Broughton, "this will not do. This is not +working; this is not sitting."</p> + +<p>"Mr Dalrymple had been explaining to me the precarious nature of an +artist's profession," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"It is not precarious with him," said Mrs Dobbs Broughton, +sententiously.</p> + +<p>"Not in a general way, perhaps; but to prove the truth of his words +he was going to treat Jael worse than Jael treats Sisera."</p> + +<p>"I was going to slit the picture from the top to the bottom."</p> + +<p>"And why?" said Mrs Broughton, putting up her hands to heaven in +tragic horror.</p> + +<p>"Just to show Miss Van Siever how little I care about it."</p> + +<p>"And how little you care about her, too," said Mrs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"She might take that as she liked." After this there was another +genuine sitting, and the real work went on as though there had been +no episode. Jael fixed her face, and held her hammer as though her +mind and heart were solely bent on seeming to be slaying Sisera. +Dalrymple turned his eyes from the canvas to the model, and from the +model to the canvas, working with his hand all the while, as though +that last pathetic "Clara" had never been uttered; and Mrs Dobbs +Broughton reclined on a sofa, looking at them and thinking of her own +singularly romantic position, till her mind was filled with a poetic +frenzy. In one moment she resolved that she would hate Clara as woman +was never hated by woman; and then there were daggers, and +poison-cups, and strangling cords in her eye. In the next she was as +firmly determined that she would love Mrs Conway Dalrymple as woman +never was loved by woman; and then she saw herself kneeling by a +cradle, and tenderly nursing a baby, of which Conway was to be the +father and Clara the mother. And so she went to sleep.</p> + +<p>For some time Dalrymple did not observe this; but at last there was a +little sound,—even the ill-nature of Miss Demolines could hardly +have called it a snore,—and he became aware that for practical +purposes he and Miss Van Siever were again alone together. "Clara," +he said in a whisper. Mrs Broughton instantly aroused herself from +her slumbers, and rubbed her eyes. "Dear, dear, dear," she said, "I +declare it's past one. I'm afraid I must turn you both out. One more +sitting, I suppose, will finish it, Conway?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, one more," said he. It was always understood that he and Clara +should not leave the house together, and therefore he remained +painting when she left the room. "And now, Conway," said Mrs +Broughton, "I suppose that all is over?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by all being over."</p> + +<p>"No,—of course not. You look at it in another light, no doubt. +Everything is beginning for you. But you must pardon me, for my heart +is distracted,—distracted,—distracted!" Then she sat down upon the +floor, and burst into tears. What was he to do? He thought that the +woman should either give him up altogether, or not give him up. All +this fuss about it was irrational! He would not have made love to +Clara Van Siever in her room if she had not told him to do so!</p> + +<p>"Maria," he said, in a very grave voice, "any sacrifice that is +required on my part on your behalf I am ready to make."</p> + +<p>"No, sir; the sacrifices shall all be made by me. It is the part of a +woman to be ever sacrificial!" Poor Mrs Dobbs Broughton! "You shall +give up nothing. The world is at your feet, and you shall have +everything,—youth, beauty, wealth, station, love,—love; friendship +also, if you will accept it from one so poor, so broken, so secluded +as I shall be." At each of the last words there had been a desperate +sob; and as she was still crouching in the middle of the room, +looking up into Dalrymple's face while he stood over her, the scene +was one which had much in it that transcended the doings of everyday +life, much that would be ever memorable, and much, I have no doubt, +that was thoroughly enjoyed by the principal actor. As for Conway +Dalrymple, he was so second-rate a personage in the whole thing, that +it mattered little whether he enjoyed it or not. I don't think he did +enjoy it. "And now, Conway," she said, "I will give you some advice. +And when in after-days you shall remember this interview, and reflect +how that advice was given you,—with what solemnity,"—here she +clasped both her hands together,—"I think that you will follow it. +Clara Van Siever will now become your wife."</p> + +<p>"I do not know that at all," said Dalrymple.</p> + +<p>"Clara Van Siever will now become your wife," repeated Mrs Broughton +in a louder voice, impatient of opposition. "Love her. Cleave to her. +Make her flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone. But rule her! +Yes, rule her! Let her be your second self, but not your first self. +Rule her! Love her. Cleave to her. Do not leave her alone, to feed on +her own thoughts as I have done,—as I have been forced to do. Now +go. No, Conway, not a word; I will not hear a word. You must go, or I +must." Then she rose quickly from her lowly attitude, and prepared +herself for a dart at the door. It was better by far that he should +go, and so he went.</p> + +<p>An American when he has spent a pleasant day will tell you that he +has had "a good time". I think that Mrs Dobbs Broughton, if she had +ever spoken the truth of that day's employment, would have +acknowledged that she had had "a good time". I think that she enjoyed +her morning's work. But as for Conway Dalrymple, I doubt whether he +did enjoy his morning's work. "A man may have too much of this sort +of thing, and then he becomes very sick of his cake." Such was the +nature of his thoughts as he returned to his own abode.</p> + + +<p><a name="c52" id="c52"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LII</h3> +<h3>Why Don't You Have an "It" for Yourself?<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Of course it came to pass that Lily Dale and Emily Dunstable were +soon very intimate, and that they saw each other every day. Indeed, +before long they would have been living together in the same house +had it not been that the squire had felt reluctant to abandon the +independence of his own lodgings. When Mrs Thorne had pressed her +invitation for the second, and then for the third time, asking them +both to come to her large house, he had begged his niece to go and +leave him alone. "You need not regard me," he had said, speaking not +with the whining voice of complaint, but with that thin tinge of +melancholy which was usual to him. "I am so much alone down in +Allington, that you need not mind leaving me." But Lily would not go +on those terms, and therefore they still lived together in the +lodgings. Nevertheless Lily was every day at Mrs Thorne's house, and +thus a great intimacy grew up between the girls. Emily Dunstable had +neither brother nor sister, and Lily's nearest male relative in her +own degree was now Miss Dunstable's betrothed husband. It was natural +therefore that they should at any rate try to like each other. It +afterwards came to pass that Lily did go to Mrs Thorne's house, and +she stayed there for awhile; but when that occurred the squire had +gone back to Allington.</p> + +<p>Among other generous kindnesses Mrs Thorne insisted that Bernard +should hire a horse for his cousin Lily. Emily Dunstable rode daily, +and of course Captain Dale rode with her;—and now Lily joined the +party. Almost before she knew what was being done she found herself +provided with hat and habit and horse and whip. It was a way with Mrs +Thorne that they who came within the influence of her immediate +sphere should be made to feel that the comforts and luxuries arising +from her wealth belonged to a common stock, and were the joint +property of them all. Things were not offered and taken and talked +about, but they made their appearance, and were used as a matter of +course. If you go to stay at a gentleman's house you understand that, +as a matter of course, you will be provided with meat and drink. Some +hosts furnish you also with cigars. A small number give you stabling +and forage for your horse; and a very select few mount you on hunting +days, and send you out with a groom and a second horse. Mrs Thorne +went beyond all others in this open-handed hospitality. She had +enormous wealth at her command, and had but few of those +all-absorbing drains upon wealth which in this country make so many +rich men poor. She had no family property,—no place to keep up in +which she did not live. She had no retainers to be maintained because +they were retainers. She had neither sons nor daughters. Consequently +she was able to be lavish in her generosity; and as her heart was +very lavish, she would have given her friends gold to eat had gold +been good for eating. Indeed there was no measure in her +giving,—unless when the idea came upon her that the recipient of her +favours was trading on them. Then she could hold her hand very +stoutly.</p> + +<p>Lily Dale had not liked the idea of being fitted out thus +expensively. A box at the opera was all very well, as it was not +procured especially for her. And tickets for other theatres did not +seem to come unnaturally for a night or two. But her spirit had +militated against the hat and the habit and the horse. The whip was a +little present from Emily Dunstable, and that of course was accepted +with a good grace. Then there came the horse,—as though from the +heavens; there seemed to be ten horses, twenty horses, if anybody +needed them. All these things seemed to flow naturally into Mrs +Thorne's establishment, like air through the windows. It was very +pleasant, but Lily hesitated when she was told that a habit was to be +given to her. "My dear old aunt insists," said Emily Dunstable. +"Nobody ever thinks of refusing anything from her. If you only knew +what some people will take, and some people will even ask, who have +nothing to do with her at all!" "But I have nothing to do with +her,—in that way I mean," said Lily. "Oh, yes, you have," said +Emily. "You and Bernard are as good as brother and sister, and +Bernard and I are as good as man and wife, and my aunt and I are as +good as mother and daughter. So you see, in a sort of a way you are a +child of the house." So Lily accepted the habit; but made a stand at +the hat, and paid for that out of her own pocket. When the squire had +seen Lily on horseback he asked her questions about it. "It was a +hired horse, I suppose?" he said. "I think it came direct from +heaven," said Lily. "What do you mean, Lily?" said the squire +angrily. "I mean that when people are so rich and good-natured as Mrs +Thorne it is no good inquiring where things come from. All that I +know is that the horses come out of Potts' livery-stable. They talk +of Potts as if he were a good-natured man who provides horses for the +world without troubling anybody." Then the squire spoke to Bernard +about it, saying that he should insist on defraying his niece's +expenses. But Bernard swore that he should give his uncle no +assistance. "I would not speak to her about such a thing for all the +world," said Bernard. "Then I shall," said the squire.</p> + +<p>In those days Lily thought much of Johnny Eames,—gave to him perhaps +more of that thought which leads to love than she had ever given him +before. She still heard the Crawley question discussed every day. Mrs +Thorne, as we all know, was at this time a Barsetshire personage, and +was of course interested in Barsetshire subjects; and she was +specially anxious in the matter, having strong hopes with reference +to the marriage of Major Grantly and Grace, and strong hopes also +that Grace's father might escape the fangs of justice. The Crawley +case was constantly in Lily's ears, and as constantly she heard high +praise awarded to Johnny for his kindness in going after the Arabins. +"He must be a fine young fellow," said Mrs Thorne, "and we'll have +him down at Chaldicotes some day. Old Lord De Guest found him out and +made a friend of him, and old Lord De Guest was no fool." Lilly was +not altogether free from a suspicion that Mrs Thorne knew the story +of Johnny's love and was trying to serve Johnny,—as other people had +tried to do, very ineffectually. When this suspicion came upon her +she would shut her heart against her lover's praises, and swear that +she would stand by those two letters which she had written in her +book at home. But the suspicion would not always be there, and there +did come upon her a conviction that her lover was more esteemed among +men and women than she had been accustomed to believe. Her cousin, +Bernard Dale, who certainly was regarded in the world as somebody, +spoke of him as his equal; whereas in former days Bernard had always +regarded Johnny Eames as standing low in the world's regard. Then +Lily, when alone, would remember a certain comparison which she once +made between Adolphus Crosbie and John Eames, when neither of the men +had as yet pleaded his cause to her, and which had been very much in +favour of the former. She had then declared that Johnny was a "mere +clerk". She had a higher opinion of him now,—a much higher opinion, +even though he could never be more to her than a friend.</p> + +<p>In these days Lily's new ally, Emily Dunstable, seemed to Lily to be +so happy! There was in Emily a complete realisation of that idea of +ante-nuptial blessedness, of which Lily had often thought so much. +Whatever Emily did she did for Bernard; and, to give Captain Dale his +due, he received all the sweets which were showered upon him with +becoming signs of gratitude. I suppose it is always the case at such +times that the girl has the best of it, and on this occasion Emily +Dunstable certainly made the most of her happiness. "I do envy you," +Lily said one day. The acknowledgement seemed to have been extorted +from her involuntarily. She did not laugh as she spoke, or follow up +what she had said with other words intended to take away the joke of +what she had uttered,—had it been a joke; but she sat silent, +looking at the girl who was re-arranging flowers which Bernard had +brought to her.</p> + +<p>"I can't give him up to you, you know," said Emily.</p> + +<p>"I don't envy you him, but 'it'," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"Then go and get an 'it' for yourself. Why don't you have an 'it' for +yourself? You can have an 'it' to-morrow, if you like,—or two or +three, if all that I hear is true."</p> + +<p>"No I can't," said Lily. "Things have gone wrong with me. Don't ask +me anything more about it. Pray don't. I shan't speak of it if you +do."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will not if you tell me I must not."</p> + +<p>"I do tell you so. I have been a fool to say anything about it. +However, I have got over my envy now, and am ready to go out with +your aunt. Here she is."</p> + +<p>"Things have gone wrong with me." She repeated the same words to +herself over and over again. With all the efforts which she had made +she could not quite reconcile herself to the two letters which she +had written in the book. This coming up to London, and riding in the +Park, and going to the theatres, seemed to unsettle her. At home she +had schooled herself down into quiescence, and made herself think +that she believed that she was satisfied with the prospects of her +life. But now she was all astray again, doubting about herself, +hankering after something over and beyond that which seemed to be +allotted to her,—but, nevertheless, assuring herself that she never +would accept of anything else.</p> + +<p>I must not, if I can help it, let the reader suppose that she was +softening her heart to John Eames because John Eames was spoken well +of in the world. But with all of us, in the opinion which we form of +those around us, we take unconsciously the opinion of others. A woman +is handsome because the world says so. Music is charming to us +because it charms others. We drink our wines with other men's +palates, and look at our pictures with other men's eyes. When Lily +heard John Eames praised by all around her, it could not be but that +she should praise him too,—not out loud, as others did, but in the +silence of her heart. And then his constancy to her had been so +perfect! If that other one had never come! If it could be that she +might begin again, and that she might be spared that episode in her +life which had brought him and her together!</p> + +<p>"When is Mr Eames going to be back?" Mrs Thorne said at dinner one +day. On this occasion the squire was dining at Mrs Thorne's house; +and there were three or four others there,—among them a Mr Harold +Smith, who was in Parliament, and his wife, and John Eames's especial +friend, Sir Raffle Buffle. The question was addressed to the squire, +but the squire was slow to answer, and it was taken up by Sir Raffle +Buffle.</p> + +<p>"He'll be back on the 15th," said the knight, "unless he means to +play truant. I hope he won't do that, as his absence has been a +terrible inconvenience to me." Then Sir Raffle explained that John +Eames was his private secretary, and that Johnny's journey to the +Continent had been made with, and could not have been made without, +his sanction. "When I came to hear the story, of course I told him +that he must go. 'Eames,' I said, 'take the advice of a man who knows +the world. Circumstanced as you are, you are bound to go.' And he +went."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word that was very good-natured of you," said Mrs Thorne.</p> + +<p>"I never keep a fellow to his desk who has really got important +business elsewhere," said Sir Raffle. "The country, I say, can afford +to do as much as that for her servants. But then I like to know that +the business is business. One doesn't choose to be humbugged."</p> + +<p>"I daresay you are humbugged, as you call it, very often," said +Harold Smith.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so; perhaps I am; perhaps that is the opinion which they +have of me at the Treasury. But you were hardly long enough there, +Smith, to have learned much about it, I should say."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose I should have known much about it, as you call it, +if I had stayed till Doomsday."</p> + +<p>"I daresay not; I daresay not. Men who begin as late as you did never +know what official life really means. Now I've been at it all my +life, and I think I do understand it."</p> + +<p>"It's not a profession I should like unless where it's joined with +politics," said Harold Smith.</p> + +<p>"But then it's apt to be so short," said Sir Raffle Buffle. Now it +had once happened in the life of Mr Harold Smith that he had been in +a Ministry, but, unfortunately, that Ministry had gone out almost +within a week of the time of Mr Smith's adhesion. Sir Raffle and Mr +Smith had known each other for many years, and were accustomed to +make civil little speeches to each other in society.</p> + +<p>"I'd sooner be a horse in a mill than have to go to an office every +day," said Mrs Smith, coming to her husband's assistance. "You, Sir +Raffle, have kept yourself fresh and pleasant through it all; but who +besides you ever did?"</p> + +<p>"I hope I am fresh," said Sir Raffle; "and as for pleasantness, I +will leave that for you to determine."</p> + +<p>"There can be but one opinion," said Mrs Thorne.</p> + +<p>The conversation had strayed away from John Eames, and Lily was +disappointed. It was a pleasure to her when people talked of him in +her hearing, and as a question or two had been asked about him, +making him the hero of the moment, it seemed to her that he was being +robbed of his due when the little amenities between Mr and Mrs Harold +Smith and Sir Raffle banished his name from the circle. Nothing more, +however, was said of him at dinner, and I fear that he would have +been altogether forgotten throughout the evening, had not Lily +herself referred,—not to him, which she could not possibly have been +induced to do,—but to the subject of his journey. "I wonder whether +poor Mr Crawley will be found guilty?" she said to Sir Raffle up in +the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid he will; I am afraid he will," said Sir Raffle; "and I +fear, my dear Miss Dale, that I must go further than that. I fear I +must express an opinion that he is guilty."</p> + +<p>"Nothing will ever make me think so," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"Ladies are always tender-hearted," said Sir Raffle, "and especially +young ladies,—and especially pretty young ladies. I do not wonder +that such should be your opinion. But you see, Miss Dale, a man of +business has to look at these things in a business light. What I want +to know is, where did he get the cheque? He is bound to be explicit +in answering that before anybody can acquit him."</p> + +<p>"That is just what Mr Eames has gone abroad to learn."</p> + +<p>"It is very well for Eames to go abroad,—though, upon my word, I +don't know whether I should not have given him different advice if I +had known how much I was to be tormented by his absence. The thing +couldn't have happened at a more unfortunate time;—the Ministry +going out, and everything. But, as I was saying, it is all very well +for him to do what he can. He is related to them, and is bound to +save the honour of his relations if it be possible. I like him for +going. I always liked him. As I said to my friend De Guest, 'That +young man will make his way.' And I rather fancy that the chance word +which I spoke then to my valued old friend was not thrown away in +Eames's favour. But, my dear Miss Dale, where did Mr Crawley get that +cheque? That's what I want to know. If you can tell me that, then I +can tell you whether or no he will be acquitted."</p> + +<p>Lily did not feel a strong prepossession in favour of Sir Raffle, in +spite of his praise of John Eames. The harsh voice of the man annoyed +her, and his egotism offended her. When, much later in the evening, +his character came on for discussion between herself and Mrs Thorne +and Emily Dunstable, she had not a word to say in his favour. But +still she had been pleased to meet him, because he was the man with +whom Johnny's life was most specially concerned. I think that a +portion of her dislike to him arose from the fact that in continuing +the conversation he did not revert to his private secretary, but +preferred to regale her with stories of his own doings in wonderful +cases which had partaken of interest similar to that which now +attached itself to Mr Crawley's case. He had known a man who had +stolen a hundred pounds, and had never been found out; and another +man who had been arrested for stealing two-and-sixpence which was +found afterwards sticking to a bit of butter at the bottom of a +plate. Mrs Thorne had heard all this, and had answered him, "Dear me, +Sir Raffle," she had said, "what a great many thieves you have had +amongst your acquaintance!" This had rather disconcerted him, and +then there had been no more talking about Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>It had been arranged on this morning that Mr Dale should return to +Allington and leave Lily with Mrs Thorne. Some special need of his +presence at home, real or assumed, had arisen, and he had declared +that he must shorten his stay in London by about half the intended +period. The need would not have been so pressing, probably, had he +not felt that Lily would be more comfortable with Mrs Thorne than in +his lodgings in Sackville Street. Lily had at first declared that she +would return with him, but everybody had protested against this. +Emily Dunstable had protested against it very stoutly; Mrs Dale +herself had protested against it by letter; and Mrs Thorne's protest +had been quite imperious in its nature. "Indeed, my dear, you'll do +nothing of the kind. I'm sure your mother wouldn't wish it. I look +upon it as quite essential that you and Emily should learn to know +each other." "But we do know each other; don't we, Emily?" said Lily. +"Not quite well yet," said Emily. Then Lily had laughed, and so the +matter was settled. And now, on this present occasion, Mr Dale was at +Mrs Thorne's house for the last time. His conscience had been +perplexed about Lily's horse, and if anything was to be said it must +be said now. The subject was very disagreeable to him, and he was +angry with Bernard because Bernard had declined to manage it for him +after his own fashion. But he had told himself so often that anything +was better than a pecuniary obligation, that he was determined to +speak his mind to Mrs Thorne, and to beg her to allow him to have his +way. So he waited till the Harold Smiths were gone, and Sir Raffle +Buffle, and then, when Lily was apart with Emily,—for Bernard Dale +had left them,—he found himself at last alone with Mrs Thorne.</p> + +<p>"I can't be too much obliged to you," he said, "for your kindness to +my girl."</p> + +<p>"Oh, laws, that's nothing," said Mrs Thorne. "We look on her as one +of us now."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure she is grateful,—very grateful; and so am I. She and +Bernard have been brought up so much together that it is very +desirable that she should not be unknown to Bernard's wife."</p> + +<p>"Exactly,—that's just what I mean. Blood's thicker than water; isn't +it? Emily's child, if she has one, will be Lily's cousin."</p> + +<p>"Her first-cousin once removed," said the squire, who was accurate in +these matters. Then he drew himself up in his seat and compressed his +lips together, and prepared himself for his task. It was very +disagreeable. Nothing, he thought, could be more disagreeable. "I +have a little thing to speak about," he said at last, "which I hope +will not offend you."</p> + +<p>"About Lily?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; about Lily."</p> + +<p>"I'm not very easily offended, and I don't know how I could possibly +be offended about her."</p> + +<p>"I'm an old-fashioned man, Mrs Thorne, and don't know much about the +ways of the world. I have always been down in the country, and maybe +I have prejudices. You won't refuse to humour one of them, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"You're beginning to frighten me, Mr Dale; what is it?"</p> + +<p>"About Lily's horse."</p> + +<p>"Lily's horse? What about her horse? I hope he's not vicious?"</p> + +<p>"She is riding every day with your niece," said the squire, thinking +it best to stick to his own point.</p> + +<p>"It will do her all the good in the world," said Mrs Thorne.</p> + +<p>"Very likely. I don't doubt it. I do not in the least disapprove her +riding. But<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"But what, Mr Dale?"</p> + +<p>"I should be so much obliged if I might be allowed to pay the +livery-stable keeper's bill."</p> + +<p>"Oh, laws a' mercy."</p> + +<p>"I daresay it may sound odd, but as I have a fancy about it, I'm sure +you'll gratify me."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will. I'll remember it. I'll make it all right with +Bernard. Bernard and I have no end of accounts,—or shall have before +long,—and we'll make an item of it. Then you can arrange with +Bernard afterwards."</p> + +<p>Mr Dale as he got up to go away felt that he was beaten, but he did +not know how to carry the battle any further on that occasion. He +could not take out his purse and put down the cost of the horse on +the table. "I will then speak to my nephew about it," he said, very +gravely, as he went away. And he did speak to his nephew about it, +and even wrote to him more than once. But it was all to no purpose. +Mr Potts could not be induced to give a separate bill, and,—so said +Bernard,—swore at last that he would furnish no account to anybody +for horses that went to Mrs Thorne's door except to Mrs Thorne +herself.</p> + +<p>That night Lily took leave of her uncle and remained at Mrs Thorne's +house. As things were now arranged she would, no doubt, be in London +when John Eames returned. If he should find her in town—and she told +herself that if she was in town he certainly would find her,—he +would, doubtless, repeat to her the offer he had so often made +before. She never ventured to tell herself that she doubted as to the +answer to be made to him. The two letters were written in the book, +and must remain there. But she felt that she would have had more +courage for persistency down at Allington than she would be able to +summon to her assistance up in London. She knew she would be weak, +should she be found by him alone in Mrs Thorne's drawing-room. It +would be better for her to make some excuse and go home. She was +resolved that she would not become his wife. She could not extricate +herself from the dominion of a feeling which she believed to be love +for another man. She had given a solemn promise both to her mother +and to John Eames that she would not marry that other man; but in +doing so she had made a solemn promise to herself that she would not +marry John Eames. She had sworn it and would keep her oath. And yet +she regretted it! In writing home to her mother the next day, she +told Mrs Dale that all the world was speaking well of John +Eames,—that John had won for himself a reputation of his own, and +was known far and wide to be a noble fellow. She could not keep +herself from praising John Eames, though she knew that such praise +might, and would, be used against her at some future time. "Though I +cannot love him I will give him his due," she said to herself.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would make up your mind to have an 'it' for yourself," +Emily Dunstable said to her again that night; "a nice 'it', so that I +could make a friend, perhaps a brother, of him."</p> + +<p>"I shall never have an 'it', if I live to be a hundred," said Lily +Dale.</p> + + +<p><a name="c53" id="c53"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LIII</h3> +<h3>Rotten Row<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Lily had heard nothing as to the difficulty about her horse, and +could therefore enjoy her exercise without the drawback of feeling +that her uncle was subjected to an annoyance. She was in the habit of +going out every day with Bernard and Emily Dunstable, and their party +was generally joined by others who would meet them at Mrs Thorne's +house. For Mrs Thorne was a very hospitable woman, and there were +many who liked well enough to go to her house. Late in the afternoon +there would be a great congregation of horses before the +door,—sometimes as many as a dozen; and then the cavalcade would go +off into the Park, and there it would become scattered. As neither +Bernard nor Miss Dunstable were unconscionable lovers, Lily in these +scatterings did not often find herself neglected or lost. Her cousin +would generally remain with her, and as in those days she had no "it" +of her own she was well pleased that he should do so.</p> + +<p>But it so happened that on a certain afternoon she found herself +riding in Rotten Row alone with a certain stout gentleman whom she +constantly met at Mrs Thorne's house. His name was Onesiphorus Dunn, +and he was actually called Siph by his intimate friends. It had +seemed to Lily that everybody was an intimate friend of Mr Dunn's, +and she was in daily fear lest she should make a mistake and call him +Siph herself. Had she done so it would not have mattered in the +least. Mr Dunn, had he observed it at all, would neither have been +flattered or angry. A great many young ladies about London did call +him Siph, and to him it was quite natural that they should do so. He +was an Irishman, living on the best of everything in the world, with +apparently no fortune of his own, and certainly never earning +anything. Everybody liked him, and it was admitted on all sides that +there was no safer friend in the world, either for young ladies or +young men, than Mr Onesiphorus Dunn. He did not borrow money, and he +did not encroach. He did like being asked out to dinner, and he did +think that they to whom he gave the light of his countenance in town +owed him the return of a week's run in the country. He neither shot, +nor hunted nor fished, nor read, and yet he was never in the way in +any house. He did play billiards, and whist, and croquet—very badly. +He was a good judge of wine, and would occasionally condescend to +look after the bottling of it on behalf of some very intimate friend. +He was a great friend of Mrs Thorne's, with whom he always spent ten +days in the autumn at Chaldicotes.</p> + +<p>Bernard and Emily were not insatiable lovers, but nevertheless, Mrs +Thorne had thought it proper to provide a fourth in the +riding-parties, and had put Mr Dunn upon this duty. "Don't bother +yourself about it, Siph," she had said; "only if those lovers should +go off philandering out of sight, our little country lassie might +find herself to be nowhere in the Park." Siph had promised to make +himself useful, and had done so. There had generally been so large a +number in their party that the work imposed on Mr Dunn had been very +light. Lily had never found out that he had been especially consigned +to her as her own cavalier, but had seen quite enough of him to be +aware that he was a pleasant companion. To her, thinking, as she ever +was thinking, about Johnny Eames, Siph was much more agreeable than +might have been a younger man who would have endeavoured to make her +think about himself.</p> + +<p>Thus when she found herself riding alone in Rotten Row with Siph +Dunn, she was neither disconcerted nor displeased. He had been +talking to her about Lord De Guest, whom he had known,—for Siph knew +everybody,—and Lily had begun to wonder whether he knew John Eames. +She would have liked to hear the opinion of such a man about John +Eames. She was making up her mind that she would say something about +the Crawley matter,—not intending of course to mention John Eames's +name,—when suddenly her tongue was paralysed and she could not +speak. At that moment they were standing near a corner, where a +turning path made an angle in the iron rails, Mr Dunn having proposed +that they should wait there for a few minutes before they returned +home, as it was probable that Bernard and Miss Dunstable might come +up. They had been there for some five or ten minutes, and Lily had +asked her first question about the Crawleys,—inquiring of Mr Dunn +whether he had heard of a terrible accusation which had been made +against a clergyman in Barsetshire,—when on a sudden her tongue was +paralysed. As they were standing, Lily's horse was turned towards the +diverging path, whereas Mr Dun was looking the other way, towards +Achilles and Apsley house. Mr Dunn was nearer to the railings, but +though they were thus looking different ways they were so placed that +each could see the face of the other. Then, on a sudden, coming +slowly towards her along the diverging path and leaning on the arm of +another man, she saw—Adolphus Crosbie.</p> + +<p>She had never seen him since a day on which she had parted from him +with many kisses,—with warm, pressing, eager kisses,—of which she +had been nowhat ashamed. He had then been to her almost as her +husband. She had trusted him entirely, and had thrown herself into +his arms with full reliance. There is often much of reticence on the +part of a woman towards a man to whom she is engaged, something also +of shamefacedness occasionally. There exists a shadow of doubt, at +least of that hesitation which shows that in spite of vows the woman +knows that a change may come, and that provision for such possible +steps backward should always be within her reach. But Lily had cast +all such caution to the winds. She had given herself to the man +entirely, and had determined that she would sink or swim, stand or +fall, live or die, by him and by his truth. He had been as false as +hell. She had been in his arms, clinging to him, kissing him, +swearing that her only pleasure in the world was to be with +him,—with him, her treasure, her promised husband; and within a +month, a week, he had been false to her. There had come upon her +crushing tidings, and she had for days wondered at herself that they +had not killed her. But she had lived, and had forgiven him. She had +still loved him, and had received new offers from him, which had been +answered as the reader knows. But she had never seen him since the +day on which she had parted from him at Allington, without a doubt as +to his faith. Now he was before her, walking on the footpath, almost +within reach of her whip.</p> + +<p>He did not recognise her, but as he passed on he did recognise Mr +Onesiphorus Dunn, and stopped to speak to him. Or it might have been +that Crosbie's friend Fowler Pratt stopped with this special +object,—for Siph Dunn was an intimate friend of Fowler Pratt's. +Crosbie and Siph were also acquainted, but in those days Crosbie did +not care much for stopping his friends in the Park or elsewhere. He +had become moody and discontented, and was generally seen going about +the world alone. On this special occasion he was having a little +special conversation about money with his very old friend Fowler +Pratt.</p> + +<p>"What, Siph, is this you? You're always on horseback now," said +Fowler Pratt.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; I have gone in a good deal for cavalry work this last +month. I've been lucky enough to have a young lady to ride with me." +This he said in a whisper, which the distance of Lily justified. "How +d'ye do, Crosbie? One doesn't often see you on horseback, or on foot +either."</p> + +<p>"I've something to do besides going to look or to be looked at," said +Crosbie. Then he raised his eyes and saw Lily's side-face, and +recognised her. Had he seen her before he had been stopped on his way +I think he would have passed on, endeavouring to escape observation. +But as it was, his feet had been arrested before he knew of her close +vicinity, and now it would seem that he was afraid of her, and was +flying from her, were he at once to walk off, leaving his friend +behind him. And he knew that she had seen him, and had recognised +him, and was now suffering from his presence. He could not but +perceive that it was so from the fixedness of her face, and from the +constrained manner in which she gazed before her. His friend Fowler +Pratt had never seen Miss Dale, though he knew very much of her +history. Siph Dunn knew nothing of the history of Crosbie and his +love, and was unaware that he and Lily had ever seen each other. +There was thus no help near her to extricate her from her difficulty.</p> + +<p>"When a man has any work to do in the world," said Siph, "he always +boasts of it to his acquaintance, and curses his luck to himself. I +have nothing to do and can go about to see and be seen;—and I must +own that I like it."</p> + +<p>Crosbie was still looking at Lily. He could not help himself. He +could not take his eyes from off her. He could see that she was as +pretty as ever, that she was but very little altered. She was, in +truth, somewhat stouter than in the old days, but of that he took no +special notice. Should he speak to her? Should he try to catch her +eye and then raise his hat? Should he go up to her horse's head +boldly, and ask her to let bygones be bygones? He had an idea that of +all courses which he could pursue that was the one which she would +approve the best,—which would be most efficacious for him, if with +her anything from him might have any efficacy. But he could not do +it. He did not know what words he might best use. Would it become him +humbly to sue to her for pardon? Or should he strive to express his +unaltered love by some tone of his voice? Or should he simply ask her +after her health? He made one step towards her, and he saw that the +face became more rigid and more fixed than before, and then he +desisted. He told himself that he was simply hateful to her. He +thought that he could perceive that there was no tenderness mixed +with her unabated anger.</p> + +<p>At this moment Bernard Dale and Emily came close upon him, and +Bernard saw him at once. It was through Bernard that Lily and Crosbie +had come to know each other. He and Bernard Dale had been fast +friends in old times, and had, of course, been bitter enemies since +the day of Crosbie's treachery. They had never spoken since, though +they had often seen each other, and Dale was not at all disposed to +speak to him now. The moment that he recognised Crosbie he looked +across to his cousin. For an instant, an idea flashed across him that +he was there by her permission,—with her assent; but it required no +second glance to show him that this was not the case. "Dunn," he +said, "I think we will ride on," and he put his horse into a trot. +Siph, whose ear was very accurate, and who knew that something was +wrong, trotted on with him, and Lily, of course, was not left behind. +"Is there anything the matter?" said Emily to her lover.</p> + +<p>"Nothing specially the matter," he replied; "but you were standing in +company with the greatest blackguard that every lived, and I thought +we had better change our ground."</p> + +<p>"Bernard!" said Lily, flashing on him with all the fire which her +eyes could command. Then she remembered that she could not reprimand +him for the offence of such abuse in such a company; so she reined in +her horse and fell a-weeping.</p> + +<p>Siph Dunn, with his wicked cleverness, knew the whole story at once, +remembering that he had once heard something of Crosbie having +behaved very ill to some one before he married Lady Alexandra De +Courcy. He stopped his horse also, falling a little behind Lily, so +that he might not be supposed to have seen her tears, and began to +hum a tune. Emily also, though not wickedly clever, understood +something of it. "If Bernard says anything to make you angry, I will +scold him," she said. Then the two girls rode on together in front, +while Bernard fell back with Siph Dunn.</p> + +<p>"Pratt," said Crosbie, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder as +soon as the party had ridden out of hearing, "do you see that girl +there in the dark blue habit?"</p> + +<p>"What, the one nearest to the path?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; the one nearest to the path. That is Lily Dale."</p> + +<p>"Lily Dale!" said Fowler Pratt.</p> + +<p>"Yes; that is Lily Dale."</p> + +<p>"Did you speak to her?" Pratt asked.</p> + +<p>"No; she gave me no chance. She was there but a moment. But it was +herself. It seems so odd to me that I should have been thus so near +her again." If there was any man to whom Crosbie could have spoken +freely about Lily Dale it was this man, Fowler Pratt. Pratt was the +oldest friend he had in the world, and it had happened that when he +first woke to the misery that he had prepared for himself in throwing +over Lily and betrothing himself to his late wife, Pratt had been the +first person to whom he had communicated his sorrow. Not that he had +ever been really open in his communications. It was not given to such +men as Crosbie to speak openly of themselves to their friends. Nor, +indeed, was Fowler Pratt one who was fond of listening to such tales. +He had no such tales to tell of himself, and he thought that men and +women should go through the world quietly, not subjecting themselves +or their acquaintances to anxieties and emotions from peculiar +conduct. But he was conscientious, and courageous also as well as +prudent, and he had dared to tell Crosbie that he was behaving very +badly. He had spoken his mind plainly, and had then given all the +assistance in his power.</p> + +<p>He paused a moment before he replied, weighing, like a prudent man, +the force of the words he was about to utter. "It is much better as +it is," he said. "It is much better that you should be as strangers +for the future."</p> + +<p>"I do not see that at all," said Crosbie. They were both leaning on +the rails, and so they remained for the next twenty minutes. "I do +not see that at all."</p> + +<p>"I feel sure of it. What could come of any renewed intercourse,—even +if she would allow it?"</p> + +<p>"I might make her my wife."</p> + +<p>"And do you think that you would be happy with her, or she with you, +after what has passed?"</p> + +<p>"I do think so."</p> + +<p>"I do not. It might be possible that she could bring herself to marry +you. Women delight to forgive injuries. They like the excitement of +generosity. But she could never forget that you had a former wife, or +the circumstances under which you were married. And as for yourself, +you would regret it after the first month. How could you ever speak +to her of your love without speaking also of your shame? If a man +does marry he should at least be able to hold up his head before his +wife."</p> + +<p>This was very severe, but Crosbie showed no anger. "I think I should +do so," he said,—"after a while."</p> + +<p>"And then, about money? Of course you would have to tell her +everything."</p> + +<p>"Everything—of course."</p> + +<p>"It is like enough that she might not regard that,—except that she +would feel that if you could not afford to marry her when you were +unembarrassed, you can hardly afford to do so when you are over head +and ears in debt."</p> + +<p>"She has money now."</p> + +<p>"After all that has come and gone you would hardly seek Lily Dale +because you want to marry a fortune."</p> + +<p>"You are too hard on me, Pratt. You know that my only reason for +seeking her is that I love her."</p> + +<p>"I do not mean to be hard. But I have a very strong opinion that the +quarrels of lovers, when they are of so very serious a nature, are a +bad basis for the renewal of love. Come, let us go and dress for +dinner. I am going to dine with Mrs Thorne, the millionaire, who +married a country doctor, and who used to be called Miss Dunstable."</p> + +<p>"I never dine out anywhere now," said Crosbie. And then they walked +out of the Park together. Neither of them, of course, knew that Lily +Dale was staying at the house at which Fowler Pratt was going to +dine.</p> + +<p>Lily, as she rode home, did not speak a word. She would have given +worlds to be able to talk, but she could not even make a beginning. +She heard Bernard and Siph Dunn chatting behind her, and hoped that +they would continue to do so till she was safe within the house. They +all used her well, for no one tried to draw her into conversation. +Once Emily said to her, "Shall we trot a little, Lily?" And then they +moved on quickly, and the misery was soon over. As soon as she was +upstairs in the house she got Emily by herself, and explained all the +mystery in a word or two. "I fear I have made a fool of myself. That +was the man to whom I was once engaged." "What, Mr Crosbie?" said +Emily, who had heard the whole story from Bernard. "Yes, Mr Crosbie; +pray, do not say a word of it to anybody,—not even to your aunt. I +am better now, but I was such a fool. No, dear; I won't go into the +drawing-room. I'll go upstairs, and come down ready for dinner."</p> + +<p>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 +own 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. I think 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 making 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.</p> + +<p>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 I am not that one thing." She thought it +probable that if she could keep Siph close to her, Mrs Thorne, who +always managed those 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 you 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.</p> + +<p>"I think I saw you in the Park riding?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was there; we go nearly every day."</p> + +<p>"I never ride; I was walking."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that the people 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."</p> + +<p>"It is about as good as the riding, and costs less money. That is all +that can be said for it. Do you live chiefly in town?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear no; I live altogether in the country. I'm only up here +because a cousin is going to be married."</p> + +<p>"Captain Dale, you mean—to Miss Dunstable?" said Fowler Pratt.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You do not like London?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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 fathers and mothers, and uncles and aunts."</p> + +<p>"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 her 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 interest. +Let that be as it might, she would answer no more questions from him +further than ordinary good breeding should require of her.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"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 he did not see it."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he did not."</p> + +<p>Then there was a pause, during which Lily sat with her face resting +on both her hands. "It is wonderful how much he is altered," she said +at last.</p> + +<p>"Think how much he has suffered."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I am altered as much, only I do not see it in myself."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Oh, as for that, I have done very well. I think I'll go to bed now. +The riding makes me so sleepy."</p> + + +<p><a name="c54" id="c54"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LIV</h3> +<h3>The Clerical Commission<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was at last arranged that the five clergymen selected should meet +at Dr Tempest's house at Silverbridge to make inquiry and report to +the bishop whether the circumstances connected with the cheque for +twenty pounds were of such a nature as to make it incumbent on him to +institute proceedings against Mr Crawley in the Court of Arches. Dr +Tempest had acted upon the letter which he had received from the +bishop, exactly as though there had been no meeting at the palace, no +quarrel to the death between him and Mrs Proudie. He was a prudent +man, gifted with the great power of holding his tongue, and had not +spoken a word, even to his wife, of what had occurred. After such a +victory our old friend the archdeacon would have blown his own +trumpet loudly among his friends. Plumstead would have heard of it +instantly, and the pæan would have been sung out in the neighbouring +parishes of Eiderdown, Stogpingum, and St Ewolds. The High Street of +Barchester would have known of it, and the very bedesmen in Hiram's +Hospital would have told among themselves the terrible discomfiture +of the bishop and his lady. But Dr Tempest spoke no word of it to +anybody. He wrote letters to the two clergymen named by the bishop, +and himself selected two others out of his own rural deanery, and +suggested to them all a day at which a preliminary meeting should be +held at his own house. The two who were invited by him were Mr Oriel, +the rector of Greshamsbury, and Mr Robarts, the vicar of Framley. +They all assented to the proposition, and on the day named assembled +themselves at Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>It was now April, and the judges were to come into Barchester before +the end of the month. What then could be the use of this +ecclesiastical inquiry exactly at the same time? Men and women +declared that it was a double prosecution, and that a double +prosecution for the same offence was a course of action opposed to +the feelings and traditions of the country. Miss Anne Prettyman went +so far as to say that it was unconstitutional, and Mary Walker +declared that no human being except Mrs Proudie would ever have been +guilty of such cruelty. "Don't tell me about the bishop, John," she +said, "the bishop is a cypher." "You may be sure Dr Tempest would not +have a hand in it if it were not right," said John Walker. "My dear +Mr John," said Miss Anne Prettyman, "Dr Tempest is as hard as a bar +of iron, and always was. But I am surprised that Mr Robarts should +take a part in it."</p> + +<p>In the meantime, at the palace, Mrs Proudie had been reduced to learn +what was going on from Mr Thumble. The bishop had never spoken a word +to her respecting Mr Crawley since that terrible day on which Dr +Tempest had witnessed his imbecility,—having absolutely declined to +answer when his wife had mentioned the subject. "You won't speak to +me about it, my dear?" she had said to him, when he had thus +declined, remonstrating more in sorrow than in anger. "No; I won't," +the bishop had replied; "there has been a great deal too much talking +about it. It has broken my heart already, I know." These were very +bad days in the palace. Mrs Proudie affected to be satisfied with +what was being done. She talked to Mr Thumble about Mr Crawley and +the cheque, as though everything were arranged quite to her +satisfaction,—as though everything, indeed, had been arranged by +herself. But everybody about the house could see that the manner of +the woman was altogether altered. She was milder than usual with the +servants and was almost too gentle in her usage of her husband. It +seemed as though something had happened to frighten her and break her +spirit, and it was whispered about through the palace that she was +afraid that the bishop was dying. As for him, he hardly left his own +sitting-room in these days, except when he joined the family at +breakfast and at dinner. And in his study he did little or nothing. +He would smile when his chaplain went to him, and give some trifling +verbal directions; but for days he scarcely ever took a pen in his +hands, and though he took up many books he read hardly a page. How +often he told his wife in those days that he was broken-hearted, no +one but his wife ever knew.</p> + +<p>"What has happened that you should speak like that?" she said to him +once. "What has broken your heart?"</p> + +<p>"You," he replied. "You; you have done it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tom," she said, going back into the memory of very far distant +days in her nomenclature, "how can you speak to me so cruelly as +that! That it should come to that between you and me, after all!"</p> + +<p>"Why did you not go away and leave me that day when I told you?"</p> + +<p>"Did you ever know a woman who liked to be turned out of a room in +her own house?" said Mrs Proudie. When Mrs Proudie had condescended +so far as this, it must be admitted that in those days there was a +great deal of trouble in the palace.</p> + +<p>Mr Thumble, on the day before he went to Silverbridge, asked for an +audience with the bishop in order that he might receive instructions. +He had been strictly desired to do this by Mrs Proudie, and had not +dared to disobey her injunctions,—thinking, however, himself, that +his doing so was inexpedient. "I have got nothing to say to you about +it; not a word," said the bishop crossly. "I thought that perhaps you +might like to see me before I started," pleaded Mr Thumble very +humbly. "I don't want to see you at all," said the bishop; "you are +going there to exercise your own judgment,—if you have got any; and +you ought not to come to me." After that Mr Thumble began to think +that Mrs Proudie was right, and that the bishop was near his +dissolution.</p> + +<p>Mr Thumble and Mr Quiverful went over to Silverbridge together in a +gig, hired from the Dragon of Wantly—as to the cost of which there +arose among them a not unnatural apprehension which amounted at last +almost to dismay. "I don't mind it so much for once," said Mr +Quiverful, "but if many such meetings are necessary, I for one can't +afford it, and I won't do it. A man with my family can't allow +himself to be money out of pocket in that way." "It is hard," said Mr +Thumble. "She ought to pay it herself, out of her own pocket," said +Mr Quiverful. He had had many concerns with the palace when Mrs +Proudie was in the full swing of her dominion, and had not as yet +begun to suspect that there might possibly be change.</p> + +<p>Mr Oriel and Mr Robarts were already sitting with Dr Tempest when the +other two clergymen were shown into the room. When the first +greetings were over luncheon was announced, and while they were +eating not a word was said about Mr Crawley. The ladies of the family +were not present, and the five clergymen sat round the table alone. +It would have been difficult to have got together five gentlemen less +likely to act with one mind and one spirit;—and perhaps it was all +the better for Mr Crawley that it should be so. Dr Tempest himself +was a man peculiarly capable of exercising the functions of a judge +in such a matter, had he sat alone as a judge; but he was one who +would be almost sure to differ from others who sat as equal assessors +with him. Mr Oriel was a gentleman at all points; but he was very +shy, very reticent, and altogether uninstructed in the ordinary daily +intercourse of man with man. Any one knowing him might have predicted +of him that he would be sure on such an occasion as this to be found +floundering in a sea of doubts. Mr Quiverful was the father of a +large family, whose life had been devoted to fighting a cruel world +on behalf of his wife and children. That fight he had fought bravely; +but it had left him no energy for any other business. Mr Thumble was +a poor creature,—so poor a creature that, in spite of a small +restless ambition to be doing something, he was almost cowed by the +hard lines of Dr Tempest's brow. The Rev Mark Robarts was a man of +the world, and a clever fellow, and did not stand in awe of +anybody,—unless it might be, in a very moderate degree, of his +patrons the Luftons, whom he was bound to respect; but his cleverness +was not the cleverness needed by a judge. He was essentially a +partisan, and would be sure to vote against the bishop in such a +matter as this now before him. There was a palace faction in the +diocese, and an anti-palace faction. Mr Thumble and Mr Quiverful +belonged to one, and Mr Oriel and Mr Robarts to the other. Mr Thumble +was too weak to stick to his faction against the strength of such a +man as Dr Tempest. Mr Quiverful would be too indifferent to do +so,—unless his interest was concerned. Mr Oriel would be too +conscientious to regard his own side on such an occasion as this. But +Mark Robarts would be sure to support his friends and oppose his +enemies, let the case be what it might. "Now, gentlemen, if you +please, we will go into the other room," said Dr Tempest. They went +into the other room, and there they found five chairs arranged for +them round the table. Not a word had as yet been said about Mr +Crawley, and no one of the four strangers knew whether Mr Crawley was +to appear before them on that day or not.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said Dr Tempest, seating himself at once in an arm-chair +placed at the middle of the table, "I think it will be well to +explain to you at first what, as I regard the matter, is the extent +of the work which we are called upon to perform. It is of its nature +very disagreeable. It cannot but be so, let it be ever so limited. +Here is a brother clergyman and a gentleman, living among us, and +doing his duty, as we are told, in a most exemplary manner; and +suddenly we hear that he is accused of theft. The matter is brought +before the magistrates, of whom I myself was one, and he was +committed for trial. There is therefore primâ facie evidence of his +guilt. But I do not think that we need go into the question of his +guilt at all." When he said this, the other four all looked up at him +in astonishment. "I thought that we had been summoned here for that +purpose," said Mr Robarts. "Not at all, as I take it," said the +doctor. "Were we to commence any such inquiry, the jury would have +given their verdict before we could come to any conclusion; and it +would be impossible for us to oppose that verdict, whether it +declares this unfortunate gentleman to be innocent or to be guilty. +If the jury shall say that he is innocent, there is an end of the +matter altogether. He would go back to his parish amidst the sympathy +and congratulations of his friends. That is what we should all wish."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is," said Mr Robarts. They all declared that was their +desire, as a matter of course; and Mr Thumble said it louder than any +one else.</p> + +<p>"But if he be found guilty, then will come that difficulty to the +bishop, in which we are bound to give him any assistance within our +power."</p> + +<p>"Of course we are," said Mr Thumble, who, having heard his own voice +once, and having liked the sound, thought that he might creep into a +little importance by using it on any occasion that opened itself for +him.</p> + +<p>"If you will allow me, sir, I will venture to state my views as +shortly as I can," said Dr Tempest. "That may perhaps be the most +expeditious course for us all in the end."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," said Mr Thumble. "I didn't mean to interrupt."</p> + +<p>"In the case of his being found guilty," continued the doctor, "there +will arise the question whether the punishment awarded to him by the +judge should suffice for ecclesiastical purposes. Suppose, for +instance, that he should be imprisoned for two months, should he be +allowed to return to his living at the expiration of that term?"</p> + +<p>"I think he ought," said Mr Robarts:—"considering all things."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why he shouldn't," said Mr Quiverful.</p> + +<p>Mr Oriel sat listening patiently, and Mr Thumble looked up to the +doctor, expecting to hear some opinion expressed by him with which he +might coincide.</p> + +<p>"There certainly are reasons why he should not," said Dr Tempest; +"though I by no means say that those reasons are conclusive in the +present case. In the first place, a man who has stolen money can +hardly be a fitting person to teach others not to steal."</p> + +<p>"You must look to the circumstances," said Robarts.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is true; but just bear with me a moment. It cannot, at any +rate, be thought that a clergyman should come out of prison and go to +his living without any notice from his bishop, simply because he has +already been punished under the common law. If this were so, a +clergyman might be fined ten days running for being drunk in the +street,—five shillings each time,—and at the end of that time might +set his bishop at defiance. When a clergyman has shown himself to be +utterly unfit for clerical duties, he must not be held to be +protected from ecclesiastical censure or from deprivation by the +action of the common law."</p> + +<p>"But Mr Crawley has not shown himself to be unfit," said Robarts.</p> + +<p>"That is begging the question, Robarts," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Just so," said Mr Thumble. Then Mr Robarts gave a look at Mr +Thumble, and Mr Thumble retired into his shoes.</p> + +<p>"That is the question as to which we are called upon to advise the +bishop," continued Dr Tempest. "And I must say that I think the +bishop is right. If he were to allow the matter to pass by without +notice,—that is to say, in the event of Mr Crawley being pronounced +guilty by a jury,—he would, I think, neglect in his duty. Now I have +been informed that the bishop has recommended Mr Crawley to desist +from his duties till the trial be over, and that Mr Crawley has +declined to take the bishop's advice."</p> + +<p>"That is true," said Mr Thumble. "He altogether disregarded the +bishop."</p> + +<p>"I cannot say that I think he was wrong," said Dr Tempest.</p> + +<p>"I think he was quite right," said Mr Robarts.</p> + +<p>"A bishop in almost all cases is entitled to the obedience of his +clergy," said Mr Oriel.</p> + +<p>"I must say that I agree with you, sir," said Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"The income is not large, and I suppose that it would have gone with +the duties," said Mr Quiverful. "It is very hard for a man with a +family to live when his income has been stopped."</p> + +<p>"Be that as it may," continued the doctor, "the bishop feels that it +may be his duty to oppose the return of Mr Crawley to his pulpit, and +that he can oppose it in no other way than by proceeding against Mr +Crawley under the Clerical Offences Act. I propose, therefore, that +we should invite Mr Crawley to attend +here<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Mr Crawley is not coming here to-day, then?" said Mr Robarts.</p> + +<p>"I thought it useless to ask for his attendance until we had settled +on our course of action," said Dr Tempest. "If we are all agreed, I +will beg him to come here on this day week, when we will meet again. +And we will then ask him whether he will submit himself to the +bishop's decision, in the event of the jury finding him guilty. If he +should decline to do so, we can only then form our opinion as to what +will be the bishop's duty by reference to the facts as they are +elicited at the trial. If Mr Crawley should choose to make to us any +statement as to his own case, of course we shall be willing to +receive it. That is my idea of what had better be done; and now, if +any gentleman has any other proposition to make, of course we shall +be pleased to hear him." Dr Tempest, as he said this, looked round +upon his companions, as though his pleasure, under the circumstances +suggested by himself, would be very doubtful.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose we can do anything better," said Mr Robarts. "I +think it a pity, however, that any steps should have been taken by +the bishop before the trial."</p> + +<p>"The bishop has been placed in a very delicate position," said Mr +Thumble, pleading for his patron.</p> + +<p>"I don't know the meaning of the word 'delicate'," said Robarts. "I +think his duty was very clear, to avoid interference whilst the +matter is, so to say, before the judge."</p> + +<p>"Nobody has anything else to propose?" said Dr Tempest. "Then I will +write to Mr Crawley and you, gentlemen, will perhaps do me the honour +of meeting me here at one o'clock on this day week." Then the meeting +was over, and the four clergymen having shaken hands with Dr Tempest +in the hall, all promised that they would return on that day week. So +far, Dr Tempest had carried his point exactly as he might have done +had the four gentlemen been represented by the chairs on which they +had sat.</p> + +<p>"I shan't come again, all the same, unless I know where I'm to get my +expenses," said Mr Quiverful, as he got into the gig.</p> + +<p>"I shall come," said Mr Thumble, "because I think it a duty. Of +course it is a hardship." Mr Thumble liked the idea of being joined +with such men as Dr Tempest, and Mr Oriel, and Mr Robarts, and would +any day have paid the expense of a gig from Barchester to +Silverbridge out of his own pocket, for the sake of sitting with such +benchfellows on any clerical inquiry.</p> + +<p>"One's first duty is to one's own wife and family," said Mr +Quiverful.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; in a way, of course, that is quite true, Mr Quiverful; +and when we know how very inadequate are the incomes of the working +clergy, we cannot but feel ourselves to be, if I may so say, put +upon, when we have to defray the expenses incidental to special +duties out of our own pockets. I think, you know,—I don't mind +saying this to you,—that the palace should have provided us with a +chaise and pair." This was ungrateful on the part of Mr Thumble, who +had been permitted to ride miles upon miles to various outlying +clerical duties upon the bishop's worn-out cob. "You see," continued +Mr Thumble, "you and I go specially to represent the palace, and the +palace ought to remember that. I think there ought to have been a +chaise and pair; I do indeed."</p> + +<p>"I don't care much what the conveyance is," said Mr Quiverful; "but I +certainly shall pay nothing more out of my own pocket;—certainly I +shall not."</p> + +<p>"The result will be that the palace will be thrown over if they don't +take care," said Mr Thumble. "Tempest, however, seems to be pretty +steady. Tempest, I think, is steady. You see he is getting tired of +parish work, and would like to go into the close. That's what he is +looking out for. Did you ever see such a fellow as that +Robarts,—just look at him;—quite indecent, wasn't he? He thinks he +can have his own way in everything, just because his sister married a +lord. I do hate to see all that meanness."</p> + +<p>Mark Robarts and Caleb Oriel left Silverbridge in another gig by the +same road, and soon passed their brethren, as Mr Robarts was in the +habit of driving a large, quick-stepping horse. The last remarks were +being made as the dust from the vicar of Framley's wheels saluted the +faces of the two slower clergymen. Mr Oriel had promised to dine and +sleep at Framley, and therefore returned in Mr Robarts's gig.</p> + +<p>"Quite unnecessary, all this fuss; don't you think so?" said Mr +Robarts.</p> + +<p>"I am not quite sure," said Mr Oriel. "I can understand that the +bishop may have found a difficulty."</p> + +<p>"The bishop indeed! The bishop doesn't care two straws about it. It's +Mrs Proudie! She has put her finger on the poor man's neck because he +has not put his neck beneath her feet; and now she thinks she can +crush him,—as she would crush you or me, if it were in her power. +That's about the long and the short of the bishop's solicitude."</p> + +<p>"You are very hard on him," said Mr Oriel.</p> + +<p>"I know him;—and am not all hard on him. She is hard upon him if you +like. Tempest is fair. He is very fair, and as long as no one meddles +with him he won't do amiss. I can't hold my tongue always, but I +often know that it is better that I should."</p> + +<p>Dr Tempest said not a word to any one on the subject, not even in his +own defence. And yet he was sorely tempted. On the very day of the +meeting he dined at Mr Walker's in Silverbridge, and there submitted +to be talked to by all the ladies and most of the gentlemen present, +without saying a word in his own defence. And yet a word or two would +have been so easy and so conclusive.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dr Tempest," said Mary Walker, "I am so sorry that you have +joined the bishop."</p> + +<p>"Are you, my dear?" said he. "It is generally thought well that a +parish clergyman should agree with his bishop."</p> + +<p>"But you know, Dr Tempest, that you don't agree with your bishop +generally."</p> + +<p>"Then it is the more fortunate that I shall be able to agree with him +on this occasion."</p> + +<p>Major Grantly was present at the dinner, and ventured to ask the +doctor in the course of the evening what he thought would be done. "I +should not venture to ask such a question, Dr Tempest," he said, +"unless I had the strongest possible reason to justify my anxiety."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I can tell you anything, Major Grantly," said the +doctor. "We did not even see Mr Crawley to-day. But the real truth is +that he must stand or fall as the jury shall find him guilty or not +guilty. It would be the same in any profession. Could a captain in +the army hold up his head in his regiment after he had been tried and +found guilty of stealing twenty pounds?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he could," said the major.</p> + +<p>"Neither can a clergyman," said the doctor. "The bishop can neither +make him nor mar him. It is the jury that must do it."</p> + + +<p><a name="c55" id="c55"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LV</h3> +<h3>Framley Parsonage<br /> </h3> + + +<p>At this time Grace Crawley was at Framley Parsonage. Old Lady +Lufton's strategy had been quite intelligible, but some people said +that in point of etiquette and judgment and moral conduct, it was +indefensible. Her vicar, Mr Robarts, had been selected to be one of +the clergymen who was to sit in ecclesiastical judgment upon Mr +Crawley, and while he was so sitting Mr Crawley's daughter was +staying in Mr Robarts's house as a visitor with his wife. It might be +that there was no harm in this. Lady Lufton, when the apparent +impropriety was pointed out to her by no less a person than +Archdeacon Grantly, ridiculed the idea. "My dear archdeacon," Lady +Lufton had said, "we all know the bishop to be such a fool and the +bishop's wife to be such a knave, that we cannot allow ourselves to +be governed in this matter by ordinary rules. Do you not think that +it is expedient to show how utterly we disregard his judgment and her +malice?" The archdeacon had hesitated much before he spoke to Lady +Lufton, whether he should address himself to her or to Mr +Robarts,—or indeed to Mrs Robarts. But he had become aware that the +proposition as to the visit had originated with Lady Lufton, and he +had therefore decided on speaking to her. He had not condescended to +say a word as to his son, nor would he so condescend. Nor could he go +from Lady Lufton to Mr Robarts, having once failed with her ladyship. +Indeed, in giving him his due, we must acknowledge that his +disapprobation of Lady Lufton's strategy arose rather from his true +conviction as to its impropriety, than from any fear lest this +attention paid to Miss Crawley should tend to bring about her +marriage with his son. By this time he hated the very name of +Crawley. He hated it the more because in hating it he had put himself +for the time on the same side with Mrs Proudie. But for all that he +would not condescend to any unworthy mode of fighting. He thought it +wrong that the young lady should be invited to Framley Parsonage at +this moment, and he said so to the person who had, as he thought, in +truth, given the invitation; but he would not allow his own personal +motives to induce him to carry on the argument with Lady Lufton. "The +bishop is a fool," he said, "and the bishop's wife is a knave. +Nevertheless I would not have had the young lady over to Framley at +this moment. If, however, you think it right and Robarts thinks it +right, there is an end of it."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word we do," said Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>I am induced to think that Mr Robarts was not quite confident of the +expediency of what he was doing by the way in which he mentioned to +Mr Oriel the fact of Miss Crawley's presence at the parsonage as he +drove that gentleman home in his gig. They had been talking about Mr +Crawley when he suddenly turned himself round, so that he could look +at his companion, and said, "Miss Crawley is staying with us at the +parsonage at the present moment."</p> + +<p>"What! Mr Crawley's daughter?" said Mr Oriel, showing plainly by his +voice that the tidings had much surprised him.</p> + +<p>"Yes; Mr Crawley's daughter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed. I did not know that you were on those terms with the +family."</p> + +<p>"We have known them for the last seven or eight years," said Mark; +"and though I should be giving you a false notion if I were to say +that I myself have known them intimately,—for Crawley is a man whom +it is quite impossible to know intimately,—yet the womankind at +Framley have known them. My sister stayed with them over at +Hogglestock for some time."</p> + +<p>"What; Lady Lufton?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; my sister Lucy. It was just before her marriage. There was a +lot of trouble, and the Crawleys were all ill, and she went to nurse +them. And then the old lady took them up, and altogether there came +to be a sort of feeling that they were to be regarded as friends. +They are always in trouble, and now in this special trouble the women +between them have thought it best to have the girl over at Framley. +Of course I had a kind of feeling about this commission; but as I +knew that it would make no difference with me I did not think it +necessary to put my veto upon the visit." Mr Oriel said nothing +further, but Mark Robarts was aware that Mr Oriel did not quite +approve of the visit.</p> + +<p>That morning old Lady Lufton herself had come across to the parsonage +with the express view of bidding all the party to come across to the +Court to dine. "You can tell Mr Oriel, Fanny, with Lucy's +compliments, how delighted she will be to see him." Old Lady Lufton +always spoke of her daughter-in-law as the mistress of the house. "If +you think he is particular, you know, we will send a note across." +Mrs Robarts said that she supposed Mr Oriel would not be particular, +but, looking at Grace, made some faint excuse. "You must come, my +dear," said Lady Lufton. "Lucy wishes it particularly." Mrs Robarts +did not know how to say that she would not come; and so the matter +stood,—when Mrs Robarts was called upon to leave the room for a +moment, and Lady Lufton and Grace were left alone.</p> + +<p>"Dear Lady Lufton," said Grace, getting up suddenly from her chair; +"will you do me a favour,—a great favour?" She spoke with an energy +which quite surprised the old lady, and caused her almost to start +from her seat.</p> + +<p>"I don't like making promises," said Lady Lufton; "but anything I can +do with propriety, I will."</p> + +<p>"You can do this. Pray let me stay here to-day. You don't understand +how I feel about going out while papa is in this way. I know how kind +and how good you all are; and when dear Mrs Robarts asked me here, +and mamma said that I had better come, I could not refuse. But +indeed, indeed, I had rather not go out to a dinner-party."</p> + +<p>"It is not a party, my dear girl," said Lady Lufton, with the kindest +voice which she knew how to assume. "And you must remember that my +daughter-in-law regards you as so very old a friend! You remember, of +course, when she was staying over at Hogglestock?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do. I remember it well."</p> + +<p>"And therefore you should not regard it as going out. There will be +nobody there but ourselves and the people from this house."</p> + +<p>"But it will be going out, Lady Lufton; and I do hope you will let me +stay here. You cannot think how I feel it. Of course I cannot go +without something like dressing—and—and— In poor papa's state I +feel that I ought not to do anything that looks like gaiety. I ought +never to forget it;—not for a moment."</p> + +<p>There was a tear in Lady Lufton's eye as she said,—"My dear, you +shan't come. You and Fanny shall stop and dine here by yourselves. +The gentlemen shall come."</p> + +<p>"Do let Mrs Robarts go, please," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"I won't do anything of the kind," said Lady Lufton. Then, when Mrs +Robarts returned to the room, her ladyship explained it all in two +words. "Whilst you have been away, my dear, Grace has begged off, and +therefore we have decided that Mr Oriel and Mr Robarts shall come +without you."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry, Mrs Robarts," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"Pooh, pooh," said Lady Lufton. "Fanny and I have known each other +quite long enough not to stand on any compliments,—haven't we, my +dear? I must get home now, as all the morning has gone by. Fanny, my +dear, I want to speak to you." Then she expressed her opinion of +Grace Crawley as she walked across the parsonage garden with Mrs +Robarts. "She is a very nice girl, and a very good girl I am sure; +and she shows excellent feeling. Whatever happens we must take care +of her. And, Fanny, have you observed how handsome she is?"</p> + +<p>"We think her very pretty."</p> + +<p>"She is more than pretty when she has a little fire in her eyes. She +is downright handsome,—or will be when she fills out a little. I +tell you what, my dear; she'll make havoc with somebody yet; you see +if she doesn't. By-by. Tell the two gentlemen to be up by seven +punctually." And then Lady Lufton went home.</p> + +<p>Grace so contrived that Mr Oriel came and went without seeing her. +There was a separate nursery breakfast at the parsonage, and by +special permission Grace was allowed to have her tea and +bread-and-butter on the next morning with the children. "I thought +you told me Miss Crawley was here," said Mr Oriel, as the two +clergymen stood waiting for the gig that was to take the visitor away +to Barchester.</p> + +<p>"So she is," said Robarts; "but she likes to hide herself, because of +her father's trouble. You can't blame her."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said Mr Oriel.</p> + +<p>"Poor girl. If you knew her you would not only pity her, but like +her."</p> + +<p>"Is she—what you call—?"</p> + +<p>"You mean, is she a lady?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she is by birth, and all that," said Mr Oriel, apologising +for his inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I don't think there is another girl in the county so well educated," +said Mr Robarts.</p> + +<p>"Indeed! I had no idea of that."</p> + +<p>"And we think her a great beauty. As for manners, I never saw a girl +with a prettier way of her own."</p> + +<p>"Dear me," said Mr Oriel. "I wish she had come down to breakfast."</p> + +<p>It will have been perceived that old Lady Lufton had heard nothing of +Major Grantly's offence; that she had no knowledge that Grace had +already made havoc, as she had called it,—had, in truth, made very +sad havoc, at Plumstead. She did not, therefore, think much about it +when her own son told her upon her return home from the parsonage on +that afternoon that Major Grantly had come over from Cosby Lodge, and +that he was going to dine and sleep at Framley Court. Some slight +idea of thankfulness came across her mind that she had not betrayed +Grace Crawley into a meeting with a stranger. "I asked him to come +some day before we went to town," said his lordship; "and I am glad +he has come to-day, as two clergymen to one's self are, at any rate, +one too many." So Major Grantly dined and slept at the Court.</p> + +<p>But Mrs Robarts was in a great flurry when she was told of this by +her husband on his return from the dinner. Mrs Crawley had found an +opportunity of telling the story of Major Grantly's love to Mrs +Robarts before she had sent her daughter to Framley, knowing that the +families were intimate, and thinking it right that there should be +some precaution.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether he will come up here," Mrs Robarts had said.</p> + +<p>"Probably not," said the vicar. "He said he was going home early."</p> + +<p>"I hope he will not come—for Grace's sake," said Mrs Robarts. She +hesitated whether she should tell her husband. She always did tell +him everything. But on this occasion she thought she had no right to +do so, and she kept the secret. "Don't do anything to bring him up, +dear."</p> + +<p>"You needn't be afraid. He won't come," said the vicar. On the +following morning, as soon as Mr Oriel was gone, Mr Robarts went +out,—about his parish he would probably have called it; but in +half-an-hour he might have been seen strolling about the Court +stable-yard with Lord Lufton. "Where is Grantly?" asked the vicar. "I +don't know where he is," said his lordship. "He has sloped off +somewhere." The major had sloped off to the parsonage, well knowing +in what nest his dove was lying hid; and he and the vicar had passed +each other. The major had gone out at the front gate, and the vicar +had gone in at the stable entrance.</p> + +<p>The two clergymen had hardly taken their departure when Major Grantly +knocked at the parsonage door. He had come so early that Mrs Robarts +had taken no precautions,—even had there been any precautions which +she would have thought it right to take. Grace was in the act of +coming down the stairs, not having heard the knock at the door, and +thus she found her lover in the hall. He had asked, of course, for +Mrs Robarts, and thus they two entered the drawing-room together. +They had not had time to speak when the servant opened the +drawing-room door to announce the visitor. There had been no word +spoken between Mrs Robarts and Grace about Major Grantly, but the +mother had told the daughter of what she had said to Mrs Robarts.</p> + +<p>"Grace," said the major, "I am so glad I found you!" Then he turned +to Mrs Robarts with his open hand. "You won't take it uncivil of me +if I say that my visit is not entirely to yourself? I think I may +take upon myself to say that I and Miss Crawley are old friends. May +I not?"</p> + +<p>Grace could not answer a word. "Mrs Crawley told me that you had +known her at Silverbridge," said Mrs Robarts, driven to say +something, but feeling that she was blundering.</p> + +<p>"I came over to Framley yesterday because I heard that she was here. +Am I wrong to come up here to see her?"</p> + +<p>"I think she must answer that for herself, Major Grantly."</p> + +<p>"Am I wrong, Grace?" Grace thought that he was the finest gentleman +and the noblest lover that had ever shown his devotion to a woman, +and was stirred by a mighty resolve that if it ever should be in her +power to reward him after any fashion, she would pour out the reward +with a very full hand indeed. But what was she to say on the present +moment? "Am I wrong, Grace?" he said, repeating his question with so +much emphasis, that she was positively driven to answer it.</p> + +<p>"I do not think you are wrong at all. How can I say you are wrong +when you are so good? If I could be your servant I would serve you. +But I can be nothing to you, because of papa's disgrace. Dear Mrs +Robarts, I cannot stay. You must answer him for me." And having thus +made her speech she escaped from the room.</p> + +<p>It may suffice to say further now that the major did not see Grace +again during that visit at Framley.</p> + + +<p><a name="c56" id="c56"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LVI</h3> +<h3>The Archdeacon Goes to Framley<br /> </h3> + + +<p>By some of those unseen telegraphic wires which carry news about the +country and make no charge for the conveyance, Archdeacon Grantly +heard that his son the major was at Framley. Now in that itself there +would have been nothing singular. There had been for years much +intimacy between the Lufton family and the Grantly family,—so much +that an alliance between the two houses had once been planned, the +elders having considered it expedient that the young lord should +marry that Griselda who had since mounted higher in the world even +than the elders had then projected for her. There had come no such +alliance; but the intimacy had not ceased, and there was nothing in +itself surprising in the fact that Major Grantly should be staying at +Framley Court. But the archdeacon, when he heard the news, bethought +him at once of Grace Crawley. Could it be possible that his old +friend Lady Lufton,—Lady Lufton whom he had known and trusted all +his life, whom he had ever regarded as a pillar of the Church in +Barsetshire,—should be now untrue to him in a matter so closely +affecting his interests? Men when they are worried by fears and +teased by adverse circumstances become suspicious of those on whom +suspicion should never rest. It was hardly possible, the archdeacon +thought, that Lady Lufton should treat him so unworthily,—but the +circumstances were strong against his friend. Lady Lufton had induced +Miss Crawley to go to Framley, much against his advice, at a time +when such a visit seemed to him to be very improper; and it now +appeared that his son was to be there at the same time,—a fact of +which Lady Lufton had made no mention to him whatever. Why had not +Lady Lufton told him that Henry Grantly was coming to Framley Court? +The reader, whose interest in the matter will be less keen than was +the archdeacon's, will know very well why Lady Lufton had said +nothing about the major's visit. The reader will remember that Lady +Lufton, when she saw the archdeacon, was as ignorant as to the +intended visit as was the archdeacon himself. But the archdeacon was +uneasy, troubled, and suspicious;—and he suspected his old friend +unworthily.</p> + +<p>He spoke to his wife about it within a very few hours of the arrival +of the tidings by those invisible wires. He had already told her that +Miss Crawley was to go to Framley parsonage, and that he thought that +Mrs Robarts was wrong to receive her at such a time. "It is only +intended for good-nature," Mrs Grantly had said. "It is misplaced +good-nature at the present moment," the archdeacon had replied. Mrs +Grantly had not thought it worth her while to undertake at the moment +any strong defence of the Framley people. She knew well how odious +was the name of Crawley in her husband's ears, and she felt that the +less that was said at present about the Crawleys the better for the +peace of the rectory at Plumstead. She had therefore allowed the +expression of his disapproval to pass unchallenged. But now he came +upon her with a more bitter grievance and she was obliged to argue +the matter with him.</p> + +<p>"What do you think?" said he; "Henry is at Framley."</p> + +<p>"He can hardly be staying there," said Mrs Grantly, "because I know +that he is so very busy at home." The business at home of which the +major's mother was speaking was his projected moving from Cosby +Lodge, a subject which was also very odious to the archdeacon. He did +not wish his son to move from Cosby Lodge. He could not endure the +idea that his son should be known throughout the county to be giving +up a residence because he could not afford to keep it. The archdeacon +could have afforded to keep up two Cosby Lodges for his son, and +would have been well pleased to do so, if only his son would not +misbehave against him so shamefully! He could not bear that his son +should be punished openly, before the eyes of all Barsetshire. Indeed +he did not wish that his son should be punished at all. He simply +desired that his son should recognise his father's power to inflict +punishment. It would be henbane to Archdeacon Grantly to have a poor +son,—a son living at Pau,—among Frenchmen!—because he could not +afford to live in England. Why had the archdeacon been careful of his +money, adding house to house and field to field? He himself was +contented,—so he told himself,—to die as he had lived in a country +parsonage, working with the collar round his neck up to the day of +his death, if God would allow him to do so. He was ambitious of no +grandeur for himself. So he would tell himself,—being partly +oblivious of certain episodes in his own life. All his wealth had +been got together for his children. He desired that his sons should +be fitting brothers for their August sister. And now the son who was +nearest to him, whom he was bent upon making a squire in his own +county, wanted to marry the daughter of a man who had stolen twenty +pounds, and when objection was made to so discreditable a connexion, +replied by packing up all his things and saying that he would go and +live—at Pau! The archdeacon therefore did not like to hear of his +son being very busy at home.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether he is busy or not," said the archdeacon, "but I +tell you he is staying at Framley."</p> + +<p>"From whom have you heard it?"</p> + +<p>"What matter does that make if it is so? I heard it from Flurry."</p> + +<p>"Flurry may have been mistaken," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"It is not at all likely. Those people always know about such things. +He heard it from the Framley keeper. I don't doubt but it's true, and +I think that it's a great shame."</p> + +<p>"A great shame that Henry should be at Framley! He has been there two +or three times every year since he has lived in the county."</p> + +<p>"It is a great shame that he should be had over there just at the +time when that girl is there also. It is impossible to believe that +such a thing is an accident."</p> + +<p>"But, archdeacon, you do not mean to say that you think that Lady +Lufton has arranged it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know who arranged it. Somebody has arranged it. If it is +Robarts, that is almost worse. One could forgive a woman in such a +matter better than one could a man."</p> + +<p>"Psha!" Mrs Grantly's temper was never bitter, but at this moment it +was not sweetened by her husband's very uncivil reference to her sex. +"The whole idea is nonsense, and you should get it out of your head."</p> + +<p>"Am I to get it out of my head that Henry wants to make this girl his +wife, and that the two are at this moment at Framley together?" In +this the archdeacon was wrong as to his facts. Major Grantly had left +Framley on the previous day, having stayed there only one night. "It +is coming to that that one can trust no one,—no one,—literally no +one." Mrs Grantly perfectly understood that the archdeacon, in the +agony of the moment, intended to exclude even herself from his +confidence by that "no one"; but to this she was indifferent, +understanding accurately when his words should be accepted as +expressing his thoughts, and when they should be supposed to express +only his anger.</p> + +<p>"The probability is that no one at Lufton knew anything about Henry's +partiality for Miss Crawley," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"I tell you I think they are both at Framley together."</p> + +<p>"And I tell you that if they are, which I doubt, they are there +simply by accident. Besides, what does it matter? If they choose to +marry each other, you and I cannot prevent them. They don't want any +assistance from Lady Lufton, or anybody else. They have simply got to +make up their own minds, and then no one can hinder them."</p> + +<p>"And, therefore, you would like to see them brought together?"</p> + +<p>"I say nothing about that, archdeacon; but I do say that we must take +these things as they come. What can we do? Henry may go and stay with +Lady Lufton if he pleases. You and I cannot prevent him."</p> + +<p>After this the archdeacon walked away, and would not argue the matter +any further with his wife at that moment. He knew very well that he +could not get the better of her, and was apt at such moments to think +that she took an unfair advantage of him by keeping her temper. But +he could not get out of his head the idea that perhaps on this very +day things were being arranged between his son and Grace Crawley at +Framley; and he resolved that he himself would go over and see what +might be done. He would, at any rate, tell all his trouble to Lady +Lufton, and beg his old friend to assist him. He could not think that +such a one as he had always known Lady Lufton to be would approve of +a marriage between Henry Grantly and Grace Crawley. At any rate, he +would learn the truth. He had once been told that Grace Crawley had +herself refused to marry his son, feeling that she would do wrong to +inflict so great an injury upon any gentleman. He had not believed in +so great a virtue. He could not believe it now,—now, when he heard +that Miss Crawley and his son were staying together in the same +parish. Somebody must be doing him an injury. It could hardly be +chance. But his presence at Framley might even yet have a good +effect, and he would at least learn the truth. So he had himself +driven to Barchester, and from Barchester he took post-horses to +Framley.</p> + +<p>As he came near to the village, he grew to be somewhat ashamed of +himself, or, at least, nervous as to the mode in which he would +proceed. The driver, turning round to him, had suggested that he +supposed he was to drive to "My Lady's". This injustice to Lord +Lufton, to whom the house belonged, and with whom his mother lived as +a guest, was very common in the county; for old Lady Lufton had lived +at Framley Court through her son's long minority, and had kept the +house there till his marriage; and even since his marriage she had +been recognised as its presiding genius. It certainly was not the +fault of old Lady Lufton, as she always spoke of everything as +belonging either to her son or to her daughter-in-law. The archdeacon +had been in doubt whether he would go to the Court or to the +parsonage. Could he have done exactly as he wished, he would have +left the chaise and walked to the parsonage, so as to reach it +without the noise and fuss incidental to a postilion's arrival. But +that was impossible. He could not drop into Framley as though he had +come from the clouds, and, therefore, he told the man to do as he had +suggested. "To my lady's?" said the postilion. The archdeacon +assented, and the man, with loud cracks of his whip, and with a +spasmodic gallop along the short avenue, took the archdeacon up to +the door of Lord Lufton's house. He asked for Lord Lufton first, +putting on his pleasantest smile, so that the servant should not +suspect the purpose, of which he was somewhat ashamed. Was Lord +Lufton at home? Lord Lufton was not at home. Lord Lufton had gone up +to London that morning, intending to return the day after to-morrow; +but both my ladies were at home. So the archdeacon was shown into the +room where both my ladies were sitting,—and with them he found Mrs +Robarts. Any one who had become acquainted with the habits of the +Framley ladies would have known that this might very probably be the +case. The archdeacon himself was as well aware as any one of the +modes of life at Framley. The lord's wife was the parson's sister, +and the parson's wife had from her infancy been the petted friend of +the old lady. Of course they all lived very much together. Of course +Mrs Robarts was as much at home in the drawing-room of Framley Court +as she was in her own drawing-room at the parsonage. Nevertheless, +the archdeacon thought himself to be hardly used when he found that +Mrs Robarts was at the house.</p> + +<p>"My dear archdeacon, who ever expected to see you?" said old Lady +Lufton. Then the two younger women greeted him. And they all smiled +on him pleasantly, and seemed overjoyed to see him. He was, in truth, +a great favourite at Framley, and each of the three was glad to +welcome him. They believed in the archdeacon at Framley, and felt for +him that sort of love which ladies in the country do feel for their +elderly male friends. There was not one of the three who would not +have taken much trouble to get anything for the archdeacon which they +had thought the archdeacon would like. Even old Lady Lufton +remembered what was his favourite soup, and always took care that he +should have it when he dined at the Court. Young Lady Lufton would +bring his tea to him as he sat in his chair. He was petted in the +house, was allowed to poke the fire if he pleased, and called the +servants by their names as though he were at home. He was compelled, +therefore, to smile and to seem pleased; and it was not till after he +had eaten his lunch, and had declared that he must return home to +dinner, that the dowager gave him an opportunity of having the +private conversation which he desired.</p> + +<p>"Can I have a few minutes' talk with you?" he said to her, whispering +into her ear as they left the drawing-room together. So she led the +way into her own sitting-room, telling him, as she asked him to be +seated, that she had supposed that something special must have +brought him over to Framley. "I should have asked you to come up +here, even if you had not spoken," she said.</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps you know what has brought me over?" said the +archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," said Lady Lufton. "I have not an idea. But I did +not flatter myself that you would come so far on a morning call, to +see us three ladies. I hope you did not want to see Ludovic, because +he will not be back till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I wanted to see you, Lady Lufton."</p> + +<p>"That is lucky, as here I am. You may be pretty sure to find me here +any day in the year."</p> + +<p>After this there was a little pause. The archdeacon hardly knew how +to begin his story. In the first place he was in doubt whether Lady +Lufton had ever heard of the preposterous match which his son had +proposed to himself to make. In his anger at Plumstead he had felt +sure that she knew all about it, and that she was assisting his son. +But this belief had dwindled as his anger had dwindled; and as the +chaise had entered the parish of Framley he had told himself that it +was quite impossible that she should know anything about it. Her +manner had certainly been altogether in her favour since he had been +in her house. There had been nothing of the consciousness of guilt in +her demeanour. But, nevertheless, there was the coincidence! How had +it come to pass that Grace Crawley and his son should be at Framley +together? It might, indeed, be just possible that Flurry might have +been wrong, and that his son had not been there at all.</p> + +<p>"I suppose Miss Crawley is at the parsonage?" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; she is still there, and will remain there I should think +for the next ten days."</p> + +<p>"Oh; I did not know," said the archdeacon very coldly.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Lady Lufton, who was as innocent as an unborn babe in +the matter of the projected marriage, that her old friend was in a +mind to persecute the Crawleys. He had on a former occasion taken +upon himself to advise that Grace Crawley should not be entertained +at Framley, and now it seemed that he had come all the way from +Plumstead to say something further in the same strain. Lady Lufton, +if he had anything further to say of that kind, would listen to him +as a matter of course. She would listen to him and reply to him +without temper. But she did not approve of it. She told herself +silently that she did not approve of persecution or of interference. +She therefore drew herself up, and pursed her mouth, and put on +something of that look of severity which she could assume very +visibly, if it so pleased her.</p> + +<p>"Yes; she is still there, and I think that her visit will do her a +great deal of good," said Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>"When we talk of doing good to people," said the archdeacon, "we +often make terrible mistakes. It so often happens that we don't know +when we are doing good and when we are doing harm."</p> + +<p>"That is true, of course, Dr Grantly, and must be so necessarily, as +our wisdom here below is so very limited. But I should think,—as far +as I can see, that is,—that the kindness which my friend Mrs Robarts +is showing to this young lady must be beneficial. You know, +archdeacon, I explained to you before that I could not quite agree +with you in what you said as to leaving these people alone till after +the trial. I thought that help was necessary to them at once."</p> + +<p>The archdeacon sighed deeply. He ought to have been somewhat +renovated in spirit by the tone in which Lady Lufton spoke to him, as +it conveyed to him almost an absolute conviction that his first +suspicion was incorrect. But any comfort which might have come to him +from this source was marred by the feeling that he must announce his +own disgrace. At any rate, he must do so, unless he were contented to +go back to Plumstead without having learned anything by his journey. +He changed the tone of his voice, however, and asked a question,—as +it might be altogether on a different subject. "I heard yesterday," +he said, "that Henry was over here."</p> + +<p>"He was here yesterday. He came the evening before, and dined and +slept here, and went home yesterday morning."</p> + +<p>"Was Miss Crawley with you that evening?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Crawley? No; she would not come. She thinks it best not to go +out while her father is in his present unfortunate position; and she +is right."</p> + +<p>"She is quite right in that," said the archdeacon; and then he paused +again. He thought that it would be best for him to make a clean +breast of it, and to trust to Lady Lufton's sympathy. "Did Henry go +up to the parsonage?" he asked.</p> + +<p>But still Lady Lufton did not suspect the truth. "I think he did," +she replied, with an air of surprise. "I think I heard that he went +up there to call on Mrs Robarts after breakfast."</p> + +<p>"No, Lady Lufton, he did not go up there to call on Mrs Robarts. He +went up there because he is making a fool of himself about that Miss +Crawley. That is the truth. Now you understand it all. I hope that +Mrs Robarts does not know it. I do hope for her own sake that Mrs +Robarts does not know it."</p> + +<p>The archdeacon certainly had no longer any doubt as to Lady Lufton's +innocence when he looked at her face as she heard these tidings. She +had predicted that Grace Crawley would "make havoc", and could not, +therefore, be altogether surprised at the idea that some gentleman +should have fallen in love with her; but she had never suspected that +the havoc might be made so early in her days, or on so great a +quarry. "You don't mean to tell me that Henry Grantly is in love with +Grace Crawley?" she replied.</p> + +<p>"I mean to say that he says he is."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear, dear! I'm sure, archdeacon, that you will believe me +when I say that I knew nothing about it."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure of that," said the archdeacon dolefully.</p> + +<p>"Or I certainly should not have been glad to see him here. But the +house, you know, is not mine, Dr Grantly. I could have done nothing +if I had known it. But only to think—; well, to be sure. She has not +lost time, at any rate."</p> + +<p>Now this was not at all the light in which the archdeacon wished that +the matter should be regarded. He had been desirous that Lady Lufton +should be horror-stricken by the tidings, but it seemed to him that +she regarded the iniquity almost as a good joke. What did it matter +how young or how old the girl might be? She came of poor people,—of +people who had no friends,—of disgraced people; and Lady Lufton +ought to feel that such a marriage would be a terrible misfortune and +a terrible crime. "I need hardly tell you, Lady Lufton," said the +archdeacon, "that I shall set my face against it as far as it is in +my power to do so."</p> + +<p>"If they both be resolved I suppose you can hardly prevent it."</p> + +<p>"Of course I cannot prevent it. Of course I cannot prevent it. If he +will break my heart and his mother's,—and his sister's,—of course I +cannot prevent it. If he will ruin himself, he must have his own +way."</p> + +<p>"Ruin himself, Dr Grantly!"</p> + +<p>"They will have enough to live upon,—somewhere in Spain or France." +The scorn expressed in the archdeacon's voice as he spoke of Pau as +being "somewhere in Spain or France", should have been heard to be +understood. "No doubt they will have enough to live upon."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that it will make a difference as to your own +property, Dr Grantly?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly it will, Lady Lufton. I told Henry when I first heard of +the thing,—before he had definitely made any offer to the +girl,—that I should withdraw from him altogether the allowance that +I now make him, if he married her. And I told him also, that if he +persisted in his folly I should think it my duty to alter my will."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for that, Dr Grantly."</p> + +<p>"Sorry! And am I not sorry? Sorrow is no sufficient word. I am +broken-hearted. Lady Lufton, it is killing me. It is indeed. I love +him; I love him;—I love him as you have loved your son. But what is +the use? What can he be to me when he shall have married the daughter +of such a man as that?"</p> + +<p>Lady Lufton sat for a while silent, thinking of a certain episode in +her own life. There had been a time when her son was desirous of +making a marriage which she had thought would break her heart. She +had for a time moved heaven and earth,—as far as she knew how to +move them,—to prevent the marriage. But at last she had +yielded,—not from lack of power, for the circumstances had been such +that at the moment of yielding she had still the power in her hand of +staying the marriage,—but she had yielded because she had perceived +that her son was in earnest. She had yielded, and had kissed the +dust; but from the moment in which her lips had so touched the +ground, they had taken great joy in the new daughter whom her son had +brought into the house. Since that she had learned to think that +young people might perhaps be right, and that old people might +perhaps be wrong. This trouble of her friend the archdeacon's was +very like her own trouble. "And he is engaged to her now?" she said, +when those thoughts had passed through her mind.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—that is, no. I am not sure. I do not know how to make myself +sure."</p> + +<p>"I am sure Major Grantly will tell you all the truth as it exists."</p> + +<p>"Yes; he'll tell me the truth,—as far as he knows it. I do not see +that there is much anxiety to spare me in that matter. He is desirous +rather of making me understand that I have no power of saving him +from his own folly. Of course I have no power of saving him."</p> + +<p>"But is he engaged to her?"</p> + +<p>"He says that she has refused him. But of course that means nothing."</p> + +<p>Again the archdeacon's position was very like Lady Lufton's position, +as it had existed before her son's marriage. In that case also the +young lady, who was now Lady Lufton's own daughter and dearest +friend, had refused the lover who proposed to her, although the +marriage was so much to her advantage,—loving him too, the while, +with her whole heart, as it was natural to suppose that Grace Crawley +might so love her lover. The more she thought of the similarity of +the stories, the stronger were her sympathies on the side of poor +Grace. Nevertheless, she would comfort her old friend if she knew +how; and of course she could not but admit to herself that the match +was one which must be a cause of real sorrow to him. "I don't know +why her refusal should mean nothing," said Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>"Of course a girl refuses at first,—a girl, I mean, in such +circumstances as hers. She can't but feel that more is offered to her +than she ought to take, and that she is bound to go through the +ceremony of declining. But my anger is not with her, Lady Lufton."</p> + +<p>"I do not see how it can be."</p> + +<p>"No; it is not with her. If she becomes his wife I trust that I may +never see her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dr Grantly!"</p> + +<p>"I do; I do. How can it be otherwise with me? But I shall have no +quarrel with her. With him I must quarrel."</p> + +<p>"I do not see why," said Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>"You do not? Does he not set me at defiance?"</p> + +<p>"At his age surely a son has a right to marry as he pleases."</p> + +<p>"If he took her out of the streets, then it would be the same?" said +the archdeacon with bitter anger.</p> + +<p>"No;—for such a one would herself be bad."</p> + +<p>"Or if she were the daughter of a huckster out of the city?"</p> + +<p>"No again;—for in that case her want of education would probably +unfit her for your society."</p> + +<p>"Her father's disgrace, then, should be a matter of indifference to +me, Lady Lufton?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say so. In the first place, her father is not +disgraced—not as yet; and we do not know whether he may ever be +disgraced. You will hardly be disposed to say that persecution from +the palace disgraces a clergyman in Barsetshire."</p> + +<p>"All the same, I believe that the man was guilty," said the +archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Wait and see, my friend, before you condemn him altogether. But, be +that as it may, I acknowledge that the marriage is one which must +naturally be distasteful to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lady Lufton! If you only knew! If you only knew!"</p> + +<p>"I do know; and I feel for you. But I think that your son has a right +to expect that you should not show the same repugnance to such a +marriage as this as you would have had a right to show had he +suggested to himself such a wife as those at which you had just now +hinted. Of course you can advise him, and make him understand your +feelings; but I cannot think you will be justified in quarrelling +with him, or in changing your views towards him as regards money, +seeing that Miss Crawley is an educated lady, who has done nothing to +forfeit your respect." A heavy cloud came upon the archdeacon's brow +as he heard these words, but he did not make any immediate answer. +"Of course, my friend," continued Lady Lufton, "I should not have +ventured to say so much to you, had you not come to me, as it were, +for my opinion."</p> + +<p>"I came here because I thought Henry was here," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"If I have said too much, I beg your pardon."</p> + +<p>"No; you have not said too much. It is not that. You and I are such +old friends that either may say almost anything to the other."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—just so. And therefore I have ventured to speak my mind," said +Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>"Of course;—and I am obliged to you. But, Lady Lufton, you do not +understand yet how this hits me. Everything in life that I have done, +I have done for my children. I am wealthy, but I have not used my +wealth for myself, because I have desired that they should be able to +hold their heads high in the world. All my ambition has been for +them, and all the pleasure which I have anticipated for myself in my +old age is that which I have hoped to receive from their credit. As +for Henry, he might have had anything he wanted from me in the way of +money. He expressed a wish, a few months since, to go into +Parliament, and I promised to help him as far as ever I could go. I +have kept up the game altogether for him. He, the younger son of a +working parish parson, has had everything that could be given to the +eldest son of a country gentleman,—more than is given to the eldest +son of many a peer. I have hoped that he would marry again, but I +have never cared that he should marry for money. I have been willing +to do anything for him myself. But, Lady Lufton, a father does feel +that he should have some return for all this. No one can imagine that +Henry ever supposed that a bride from that wretched place at +Hogglestock would be welcomed among us. He knew that he would break +our hearts, and he did not care for it. That is what I feel. Of +course he has the power to do as he likes;—and of course I have the +power to do as I like also with what is my own."</p> + +<p>Lady Lufton was a very good woman, devoted to her duties, +affectionate and just to those about her, truly religious, and +charitable from her nature; but I doubt whether the thorough +worldliness of the archdeacon's appeal struck her as it will strike +the reader. People are so much more worldly in practice than they are +in theory, so much keener after their own gratification in detail +than they are in the abstract, that the narrative of many an +adventure would shock us, though the same adventure would not shock +us in the action. One girl tells another how she has changed her mind +in love; and the friend sympathises with the friend, and perhaps +applauds. Had the story been told in print, the friend who had +listened with equanimity would have read of such vacillation with +indignation. She who vacillated herself would have hated her own +performance when brought before her judgment as a matter in which she +had no personal interest. Very fine things are written every day +about honesty and truth, and men read them with a sort of external +conviction that a man, if he be anything of a man at all, is of +course honest and true. But when the internal convictions are brought +out between two or three who are personally interested +together,—between two or three who feel that their little gathering +is, so to say, "tiled",—those internal convictions differ very much +from the external convictions. This man, in his confidences, asserts +broadly that he does not mean to be thrown over, and that man has a +project for throwing over somebody else; and the intention of each is +that scruples are not to stand in the way of his success. The "Ruat +cœlum, fiat justitia," was said, no doubt, from an outside balcony +to a crowd, and the speaker knew that he was talking buncombe. The +"Rem, si possis recte, si non, quocunque modo," was whispered into +the ear in a club smoking-room, and the whisperer intended that his +words should prevail.</p> + +<p>Lady Lufton had often heard her friend the archdeacon preach, and she +knew well the high tone which he could take as to the necessity of +trusting to our hopes for the future for all our true happiness; and +yet she sympathised with him when he told her that he was +broken-hearted because his son would take a step which might possibly +interfere with his worldly prosperity. Had the archdeacon been +preaching about matrimony, he would have recommended young men, in +taking wives to themselves, especially to look for young women who +feared the Lord. But in talking about his son's wife, no word as to +her eligibility or non-eligibility in this respect escaped his lips. +Had he talked on the subject till nightfall no such word would have +been spoken. Had any friend of his own, man or woman, in discussing +such a matter with him and asking his advice upon it, alluded to the +fear of the Lord, the allusion would have been distasteful to him and +would have smacked to his palate of hypocrisy. Lady Lufton, who +understood as well as any woman what it is to be "tiled" with a +friend, took all this in good part. The archdeacon had spoken out of +his heart what was in his heart. One of his children had married a +marquis. Another might probably become a bishop,—perhaps an +archbishop. The third might be a county squire,—high among the +county squires. But he could only so become by walking warily;—and +now he was bent on marrying the penniless daughter of an impoverished +half-mad country curate, who was about to be tried for stealing +twenty pounds! Lady Lufton, in spite of all her arguments, could not +refuse her sympathy to her old friend.</p> + +<p>"After all, from what you say, I suppose they are not engaged."</p> + +<p>"I do not know," said the archdeacon. "I cannot tell!"</p> + +<p>"And what do you wish me to do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh—nothing. I came over, as I said before, because I thought he was +here. I think it right, before he has absolutely committed himself, +to take every means in my power to make him understand that I shall +withdraw from him all pecuniary assistance,—now and for the future."</p> + +<p>"My friend, that threat seems to me to be so terrible."</p> + +<p>"It is the only power I have left to me."</p> + +<p>"But you, who are so affectionate by nature, would never adhere to +it."</p> + +<p>"I will try. I will try my best to be firm. I will at once put +everything beyond my control after my death." The archdeacon, as he +uttered these terrible words,—words which were awful to Lady +Lufton's ears,—resolved that he would endeavour to nurse his own +wrath; but, at the same time, almost hated himself for his own +pusillanimity, because he feared that his wrath would die away before +he should have availed himself of its heat.</p> + +<p>"I would do nothing rash of that kind," said Lady Lufton. "Your +object is to prevent the marriage,—not to punish him for it when +once he has made it."</p> + +<p>"He is not to have his own way in everything, Lady Lufton."</p> + +<p>"But you should first try to prevent it."</p> + +<p>"What can I do to prevent it?"</p> + +<p>Lady Lufton paused a couple of minutes before she replied. She had a +scheme in her head, but it seemed to her to savour of cruelty. And +yet at present it was her chief duty to assist her old friend, if any +assistance could be given. There could hardly be a doubt that such a +marriage as this, of which they were speaking, was in itself an evil. +In her case, the case of her son, there had been no question of a +trial, of money stolen, of aught that was in truth disgraceful. "I +think if I were you, Dr Grantly," she said, "that I would see the +young lady while I was here."</p> + +<p>"See her myself?" said the archdeacon. The idea of seeing Grace +Crawley himself had, up to this moment, never entered his head.</p> + +<p>"I think I would do so."</p> + +<p>"I think I will," said the archdeacon, after a pause. Then he got up +from his chair. "If I am to do it, I had better do it at once."</p> + +<p>"Be gentle with her, my friend." The archdeacon paused again. He +certainly had entertained the idea of encountering Miss Crawley with +severity rather than gentleness. Lady Lufton rose from her seat, and +coming up to him, took one of his hands between her own two. "Be +gentle to her," she said. "You have owned that she has done nothing +wrong." The archdeacon bowed his head in token of assent and left the +room.</p> + +<p>Poor Grace Crawley.</p> + + +<p><a name="c57" id="c57"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LVII</h3> +<h3>A Double Pledge<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The archdeacon, as he walked across from the Court to the parsonage, +was very thoughtful and his steps were very slow. The idea of seeing +Miss Crawley herself had been suggested to him suddenly, and he had +to determine how he could bear himself towards her, and what he would +say to her. Lady Lufton had beseeched him to be gentle with her. Was +the mission one in which gentleness would be possible? Must it not be +his object to make this young lady understand that she could not be +right in desiring to come into his family and share in all his good +things when she had no good things of her own,—nothing but evil +things to bring with her? And how could this be properly explained to +the young lady in gentle terms? Must he not be round with her, and +give her to understand in plain words,—the plainest which he could +use,—that she would not get his good things, though she would most +certainly impose the burden of all her evil things on the man whom +she was proposing to herself as a husband. He remembered very well as +he went, that he had been told that Miss Crawley had herself refused +the offer, feeling herself to be unfit for the honour tendered to +her; but he suspected the sincerity of such a refusal. Calculating in +his own mind the unreasonably great advantages which would be +conferred on such a young lady as Miss Crawley by a marriage with his +son, he declared to himself that any girl must be very wicked indeed +who should expect, or even accept, so much more than was her +due;—but nevertheless he could not bring himself to believe that any +girl, when so tempted, would, in sincerity, decline to commit this +great wickedness. If he was to do any good by seeing Miss Crawley, +must it not consist in a proper explanation to her of the +selfishness, abomination, and altogether damnable blackness of such +wickedness as this on the part of a young woman in her circumstances? +"Heaven and earth!" he must say, "here are you, without a penny in +your pocket, with hardly decent raiment on your back, with a thief +for your father, and you think that you are to come and share all the +wealth that the Grantlys have amassed, that you are to have a husband +with broad acres, a big house, and game preserves, and become one of +a family whose name has never been touched by a single +accusation,—no, not a suspicion? No;—injustice such as that shall +never be done betwixt you and me. You may wring my heart, and you may +ruin my son; but the broad acres and the big house, and the game +preserves, and the rest of it, shall never be your reward for doing +so." How was all that to be told effectively to a young woman in +gentle words? And then how was a man in the archdeacon's position to +be desirous of gentle words,—gentle words which would not be +efficient,—when he knew well in his heart of hearts that he had +nothing but his threats on which to depend. He had no more power of +disinheriting his own son for such an offence as that contemplated +than he had of blowing out his own brains, and he knew that it was +so. He was a man incapable of such persistency of wrath against one +whom he loved. He was neither cruel enough nor strong enough to do +such a thing. He could only threaten to do it, and make what best use +he might of threats, whilst threats might be of avail. In spite of +all that he had said to his wife, to Lady Lufton, and to himself, he +knew very well that if his son did sin in this way he, the father, +would forgive the sin of the son.</p> + +<p>In going across from the front gate of the Court to the parsonage +there was a place where three roads met, and on this spot there stood +a finger-post. Round this finger-post there was now pasted a placard, +which at once arrested the archdeacon's eye:—"Cosby Lodge—Sale of +furniture—Growing crops to be sold on the grounds. Three hunters. A +brown gelding warranted for saddle or harness!"—The archdeacon +himself had given the brown gelding to his son, as a great +treasure.—"Three Alderney cows, two cow-calves, a low phaeton, a +gig, two ricks of hay." In this fashion were proclaimed in odious +details all those comfortable additions to a gentleman's house in the +country, with which the archdeacon was so well acquainted. Only last +November he had recommended his son to buy a certain clod-crusher, +and the clod-crusher had of course been bought. The bright blue paint +upon it had as yet not given way to the stains of the ordinary +farmyard muck and mire;—and here was the clod-crusher advertised for +sale! The archdeacon did not want his son to leave Cosby Lodge. He +knew well enough that his son need not leave Cosby Lodge. Why had the +foolish fellow been in such a hurry with his hideous ill-conditioned +advertisements? Gentle! How was he in such circumstances to be +gentle? He raised his umbrella and poked angrily at the disgusting +notice. The iron ferrule caught the paper at a chink in the post, and +tore it from the top to the bottom. But what was the use? A horrid +ugly bill lying torn in such a spot would attract only more attention +than one fixed to a post. He could not condescend, however, to give +it further attention, but passed on to the parsonage. Gentle indeed!</p> + +<p>Nevertheless Archdeacon Grantly was a gentleman, and never yet had +dealt more harshly with any woman than we have sometimes seen him to +do with his wife,—when he would say to her an angry word or two with +a good deal of marital authority. His wife, who knew well what his +angry words were worth, never even suggested to herself that she had +cause for complaint on that head. Had she known that the archdeacon +was about to undertake such a mission as this which he had now in +hand, she would not have warned him to be gentle. She, indeed, would +have strongly advised him not to undertake the mission, cautioning +him that the young lady would probably get the better of him.</p> + +<p>"Grace, my dear," said Mrs Robarts, coming up into the nursery in +which Miss Crawley was sitting with the children, "come out here a +moment, will you?" Then Grace left the children and went out into the +passage. "My dear, there is a gentleman in the drawing-room who asks +to see you."</p> + +<p>"A gentleman, Mrs Robarts! What gentleman?" But Grace, though she +asked the question, conceived that the gentleman must be Henry +Grantly. Her mind did not suggest to her the possibility of any other +gentleman coming to see her.</p> + +<p>"You must not be surprised, or allow yourself to be frightened."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs Robarts, who is it?"</p> + +<p>"It is Major Grantly's father."</p> + +<p>"The archdeacon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear; Archdeacon Grantly. He is in the drawing-room."</p> + +<p>"Must I see him, Mrs Robarts?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Grace—I think you must. I hardly know how you can refuse. He +is an intimate friend of everybody here at Framley."</p> + +<p>"What will he say to me?"</p> + +<p>"Nay; that I cannot tell. I suppose you +know<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"He has come, no doubt, to bid me have nothing to say to his son. He +need not have troubled himself. But he may say what he likes. I am no +coward, and I will go to him."</p> + +<p>"Stop a moment, Grace. Come into my room for an instant. The children +have pulled your hair about." But Grace, though she followed Mrs +Robarts into the bedroom, would have nothing done to her hair. She +was too proud for that,—and we may say, also, too little confident +in any good which such resources might effect on her behalf. "Never +mind about that," she said. "What am I to say to him?" Mrs Robarts +paused before she replied, feeling that the matter was one which +required some deliberation. "Tell me what I must say to him?" said +Grace, repeating her question.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know what your own feelings are, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do. You do know. If I had all the world to give, I would +give it all to Major Grantly."</p> + +<p>"Tell him that, then."</p> + +<p>"No, I will not tell him that. Never mind about my frock, Mrs +Robarts. I do not care for that. I will tell him that I love his son +and his granddaughter too well to injure them. I will tell him +nothing else. I might as well go now." Mrs Robarts, as she looked at +Grace, was astonished at the serenity of her face. And yet when her +hand was on the drawing-room door Grace hesitated, looked back, and +trembled. Mrs Robarts blew a kiss to her from the stairs; and then +the door was opened, and the girl found herself in the presence of +the archdeacon. He was standing on the rug, with his back to the +fire, and his heavy ecclesiastical hat was placed on the middle of +the round table. The hat caught Grace's eye at the moment of her +entrance, and she felt that all the thunders of the Church were +contained within it. And then the archdeacon himself was so big and +so clerical, and so imposing. Her father's aspect was severe, but the +severity of her father's face was essentially different from that +expressed by the archdeacon. Whatever impression came from her father +came from the man himself. There was no outward adornment there; +there was, so to say, no wig about Mr Crawley. Now the archdeacon was +not exactly adorned; but he was so thoroughly imbued with high +clerical belongings and sacerdotal fitnesses as to appear always as a +walking, sitting, or standing impersonation of parsondom. To poor +Grace, as she entered the room, he appeared to be an impersonation of +parsondom in its severest aspect.</p> + +<p>"Miss Crawley, I believe?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said she, curtseying ever so slightly, as she stood +before him at some considerable distance.</p> + +<p>His first idea was that his son must be indeed a fool if he was going +to give up Cosby Lodge and all Barsetshire, and retire to Pau, for so +slight and unattractive a creature as he now saw before him. But this +idea stayed with him only for a moment. As he continued to gaze at +her during the interview he came to perceive that there was very much +more than he had perceived at the first glance, and that his son, +after all, had had eyes to see, though perhaps not a heart to +understand.</p> + +<p>"Will you not take a chair?" he said. Then Grace sat down, still at a +distance from the archdeacon, and he kept his place upon the rug. He +felt that there would be a difficulty in making her feel the full +force of his eloquence all across the room; and yet he did not know +how to bring himself nearer to her. She became suddenly very +important in his eyes, and he was to some extent afraid of her. She +was so slight, so meek, so young; and yet there was about her +something so beautifully feminine,—and, withal, so like a +lady,—that he felt instinctively that he could not attack her with +harsh words. Had her lips been full, and her colour high, and had her +eyes rolled, had she put forth against him any of that ordinary +artillery with which youthful feminine batteries are charged, he +would have been ready to rush to the combat. But this girl, about +whom his son had gone mad, sat there as passively as though she were +conscious of the possession of no artillery. There was not a single +gun fired from beneath her eyelids. He knew not why, but he respected +his son now more than he had respected him for the last two +months;—more, perhaps, than he had ever respected him before. He was +an eager as ever against the marriage;—but in thinking of his son in +what he said and did after these few moments of the interview, he +ceased to think of him with contempt. The creature before him was a +woman who grew in his opinion till he began to feel that she was in +truth fit to be the wife of his son—if only she were not a pauper, +and the daughter of a mad curate, and alas! too probably, of a thief. +Though his feeling towards the girl was changed, his duty to himself, +his family, and his son, was the same as ever, and therefore he began +his task.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you had not expected to see me?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, sir."</p> + +<p>"Nor had I intended when I came over here to call on my old friend, +Lady Lufton, to come up to this house. But as I knew that you were +here, Miss Crawley, I thought that upon the whole it would be better +that I should see you." Then he paused as though he expected that +Grace would say something; but Grace had nothing to say. "Of course +you must understand, Miss Crawley, that I should not venture to speak +to you on this subject unless I myself were very closely interested +in it." He had not yet said what was the subject, and it was not +probable that Grace should give him any assistance by affecting to +understand this without direct explanation from him. She sat quite +motionless, and did not even aid him by showing by her altered colour +that she understood his purpose. "My son has told me," said he, "that +he has professed an attachment for you, Miss Crawley."</p> + +<p>Then there was another pause, and Grace felt that she was compelled +to say something. "Major Grantly has been very good to me," she said, +and then she hated herself for having uttered words which were so +tame and unwomanly in their spirit. Of course her lover's father +would despise her for having so spoken. After all it did not much +signify. If he would only despise her and go away, it would perhaps +be for the best.</p> + +<p>"I do not know about being good," said the archdeacon. "I think he is +good. I think he means to be good."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he is good," said Grace warmly.</p> + +<p>"You know he has a daughter, Miss Crawley?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I know Edith well."</p> + +<p>"Of course his first duty is to her. Is it not? And he owes much to +his family. Do you not feel that?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I feel it, sir." The poor girl had always heard Dr Grantly +spoken of as the archdeacon, but she did not in the least know what +she ought to call him.</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Crawley, pray listen to me; I will speak to you very +openly. I must speak to you openly, because it is my duty on my son's +behalf—but I will endeavour to speak to you kindly also. Of yourself +I have heard nothing but what is favourable, and there is no reason +as yet why I should not respect and esteem you." Grace told herself +that she would do nothing which ought to forfeit his respect and +esteem, but that she did not care two straws whether his respect and +esteem were bestowed on her or not. She was striving after something +very different from that. "If my son were to marry you, he would +greatly injure himself, and would very greatly injure his child." +Again he paused. He had told her to listen, and she was resolved that +she would listen,—unless he would say something which might make a +word from her necessary at the moment. "I do not know whether there +does at present exist any engagement between you?"</p> + +<p>"There is no engagement, sir."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that,—very glad of it. I do not know whether you are +aware that my son is dependent upon me for the greater part of his +income. It is so, and as I am so circumstanced with my son, of course +I feel the closest possible concern in his future prospects." The +archdeacon did not know how to explain clearly why the fact of his +making his son an annual allowance should give him a warmer interest +in his son's affairs than he might have had had the major been +altogether independent of him; but he trusted that Grace would +understand this by her own natural lights. "Now, Miss Crawley, of +course I cannot wish to say a word that will hurt your feelings. But +there are reasons<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I know," said she, interrupting him. "Papa is accused of stealing +money. He did not steal it, but people think he did. And then we are +so very poor."</p> + +<p>"You do understand me then,—and I feel grateful; I do indeed."</p> + +<p>"I don't think our being poor ought to signify a bit," said Grace. +"Papa is a gentleman, and a clergyman, and mamma is a lady."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear—"</p> + +<p>"I know I ought not to be your son's wife as long as people think +that papa stole the money. If he had stolen it, I ought never to be +Major Grantly's wife,—or anybody else's. I know that very well. And +as for Edith,—I would sooner die than do anything that would be bad +to her."</p> + +<p>The archdeacon had now left the rug, and advanced till he was almost +close to the chair on which Grace was sitting. "My dear," he said, +"what you say does you very much honour,—very much honour indeed." +Now that he was close to her, he could look into her eyes, and he +could see the exact form of her features, and could +understand,—could not help understanding,—the character of her +countenance. It was a noble face, having in it nothing that was poor, +nothing that was mean, nothing that was shapeless. It was a face that +promised infinite beauty, with a promise that was on the very verge +of fulfilment. There was a play about her mouth as she spoke, and a +curl in her nostrils as the eager words came from her, which almost +made the selfish father give way. Why had they not told him that she +was such a one as this? Why had not Henry himself spoken of the +speciality of her beauty? No man in England knew better than the +archdeacon the difference between beauty of one kind and beauty of +another kind in a woman's face,—the one beauty, which comes from +health and youth and animal spirits, and which belongs to the +miller's daughter, and the other beauty, which shows itself in fine +lines and a noble spirit,—the beauty which comes from breeding. +"What you say does you very much honour indeed," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"I should not mind at all about being poor," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"No; no; no," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Poor as we are,—and no clergyman, I think, was ever so poor,—I +should have done as your son asked me at once, if it had been only +that,—because I love him."</p> + +<p>"If you love him you will not wish to injure him."</p> + +<p>"I will not injure him. Sir, there is my promise." And now as she +spoke she rose from her chair, and standing close to the archdeacon, +laid her hand very lightly on the sleeve of his coat. "There is my +promise. As long as people say that papa stole the money, I will +never marry your son. There."</p> + +<p>The archdeacon was still looking down at her, and feeling the slight +touch of her fingers, raised his arm a little as though to welcome +the pressure. He looked into her eyes, which were turned eagerly +towards his, and when doing so was quite sure that the promise would +be kept. It would have been a sacrilege,—he felt that it would have +been sacrilege,—to doubt such a promise. He almost relented. His +soft heart, which was never very well under his own control, gave way +so far that he was nearly moved to tell her that, on his son's +behalf, he acquitted her of the promise. What could any man's son do +better than have such a woman for his wife? It would have been of no +avail had he made her such offer. The pledge she had given had not +been wrung from her by his influence, nor could his influence have +availed aught with her towards the alteration of her purpose. It was +not the archdeacon who had taught her that it would not be her duty +to take disgrace into the house of the man she loved. As he looked +down upon her face two tears formed themselves in his eyes, and +gradually trickled down his old nose. "My dear," he said, "if this +cloud passes away from you, you shall come to us and be our +daughter." And thus he also pledged himself. There was a dash of +generosity about the man, in spite of his selfishness, which always +made him desirous of giving largely to those who gave largely to him. +He would fain that his gifts should be bigger, if it were possible. +He longed at this moment to tell her that the dirty cheque should go +for nothing. He would have done it, I think, but that it was +impossible for him to speak in her presence of that which moved her +so greatly.</p> + +<p>He had contrived that her hand should fall from his arm into his +grasp, and now for a moment he held it. "You are a good girl," he +said—"a dear, dear, good girl. When this cloud has passed away, you +shall come to us and be our daughter."</p> + +<p>"But it will never pass away," said Grace.</p> + +<p>"Let us hope that it may. Let us hope that it may." Then he stooped +over and kissed her, and leaving the room, got out into the hall and +thence into the garden, and so away, without saying a word of adieu +to Mrs Robarts.</p> + +<p>As he walked across to the Court, whither he was obliged to go, +because of his chaise, he was lost in surprise at what had occurred. +He had gone to the parsonage hating the girl, and despising his son. +Now, as he retraced his steps, his feelings were altogether changed. +He admired the girl,—and as for his son, even his anger was for the +moment altogether gone. He would write to his son at once and implore +him to stop the sale. He would tell his son all that had occurred, or +rather would make Mrs Grantly do so. In respect to his son he was +quite safe. He thought at that moment that he was safe. There would +be no use in hurling further threats at him. If Crawley were found +guilty of stealing the money, there was the girl's promise. If he +were acquitted there was his own pledge. He remembered perfectly well +that the girl had said more than this,—that she had not confined her +assurance to the verdict of a jury, that she had protested that she +would not accept Major Grantly's hand as long as people thought that +her father had stolen the cheque; but the archdeacon felt that it +would be ignoble to hold her closely to her words. The event, +according to his ideas of the compact, was to depend on the verdict +of the jury. If the jury should find Mr Crawley not guilty, all +objection on his part to the marriage was to be withdrawn. And he +would keep his word! In such case it should be withdrawn.</p> + +<p>When he came to the rags of the auctioneer's bill, which he had +before torn down with his umbrella, he stopped a moment to consider +how he would act at once. In the first place he would tell his son +that his threats were withdrawn, and would ask him to remain at Cosby +Lodge. He would write the letter as he passed through Barchester, on +his way home, so that his son might receive it on the following +morning; and he would refer the major to his mother for a full +explanation of the circumstances. Those odious bills must be removed +from every barn-door and wall in the county. At the present moment +his anger against his son was chiefly directed against his ill-judged +haste in having put up those ill-omened posters. Then he paused to +consider what must be his wish as to the verdict of the jury. He had +pledged himself to abide by the verdict, and he could not but have a +wish on the subject. Could he desire in his heart that Mr Crawley +should be found guilty? He stood still for a moment thinking of this, +and then he walked on, shaking his head. If it might be possible he +would have no wish on the subject whatsoever.</p> + +<p>"Well!" said Lady Lufton, stopping him in the passage,—"have you +seen her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have seen her."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"She is a good girl,—a very good girl. I am in a great hurry, and +hardly know how to tell you more now."</p> + +<p>"You say that she is a good girl."</p> + +<p>"I say that she is a very good girl. An angel could not have behaved +better. I will tell you some day, Lady Lufton, but I can hardly tell +you now."</p> + +<p>When the archdeacon was gone old Lady Lufton confided to young Lady +Lufton her very strong opinion that many months would not be gone by +before Grace Crawley would be mistress of Cosby Lodge. "It will be a +great promotion," said the old lady, with a little toss of her head. +When Grace was interrogated afterwards by Mrs Robarts as to what had +passed between her and the archdeacon she had very little to say as +to the interview. "No, he did not scold me," she replied to an +inquiry from her friend. "But he spoke about your engagement?" said +Mrs Robarts. "There is no engagement," said Grace. "But I suppose you +acknowledged, my dear, that a future engagement is quite possible?" +"I told him, Mrs Robarts," Grace answered, after hesitating for a +moment, "that I would never marry his son as long as papa was +suspected by any one in the world of being a thief. And I will keep +my word." But she said nothing to Mrs Robarts of the pledge which the +archdeacon had made to her.</p> + + +<p><a name="c58" id="c58"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LVIII</h3> +<h3>The Cross-grainedness of Men<br /> </h3> + + +<p>By the time that the archdeacon reached Plumstead his enthusiasm in +favour of Grace Crawley had somewhat cooled itself; and the language +which from time to time he prepared for conveying his impressions to +his wife, became less fervid as he approached his home. There was his +pledge, and by that he would abide;—and so much he would make both +his wife and his son understand. But any idea which he might have +entertained for a moment of extending the promise he had given and +relaxing that given to him was gone before he saw his own chimneys. +Indeed, I fear he had by that time begun to feel that the only +salvation now open to him must come from the jury's verdict. If the +jury should declare Mr Crawley to be guilty, then—; he would not say +even to himself that in such case all would be right, but he did feel +that much as he might regret the fate of the poor Crawleys, and of +the girl whom in his warmth he had declared to be almost an angel, +nevertheless to him personally such a verdict would bring consolatory +comfort.</p> + +<p>"I have seen Miss Crawley," he said to his wife, as soon as he had +closed the door of his study, before he had been two minutes out of +the chaise. He had determined that he would dash at the subject at +once, and he thus carried his resolution into effect.</p> + +<p>"You have seen Grace Crawley?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I went up to the parsonage and called upon her. Lady Lufton +advised me to do so."</p> + +<p>"And Henry?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Henry has gone. He was only there one night. I suppose he saw +her, but I am not sure."</p> + +<p>"Would not Miss Crawley tell you?"</p> + +<p>"I forgot to ask her." Mrs Grantly, at hearing this, expressed her +surprise by opening wide her eyes. He had gone all the way over to +Framley on purpose to look after his son, and learn what were his +doings, and when there he had forgotten to ask the person who could +have given him better information than any one else! "But it does not +signify," continued the archdeacon; "she said enough to me to make +that of no importance."</p> + +<p>"And what did she say?"</p> + +<p>"She said that she would never consent to marry Henry as long as +there was any suspicion abroad as to her father's guilt."</p> + +<p>"And you believe her promise?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do; I do not doubt that in the least. I put implicit +confidence in her. And I have promised her that if her father is +acquitted—I will withdraw my opposition."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"But I have. And you would have done the same had you been there."</p> + +<p>"I doubt that, my dear. I am not so impulsive as you are."</p> + +<p>"You could not have helped yourself. You would have felt yourself +obliged to be equally generous with her. She came up to me and she +put her hand upon me<span class="nowrap">—"</span> +"Psha!" said Mrs Grantly. "But she did, my +dear, and then she said, 'I promise you that I will not become your +son's wife while people think papa stole this money.' What else could +I do?"</p> + +<p>"And is she pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Very pretty; very beautiful."</p> + +<p>"And like a lady?"</p> + +<p>"Quite like a lady. There is no mistake about that."</p> + +<p>"And she behaved well?"</p> + +<p>"Admirably," said the archdeacon, who was in a measure compelled to +justify the generosity into which he had been betrayed by his +feelings.</p> + +<p>"Then she is a paragon," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you may call a paragon, my dear. I say that she is +a lady, and that she is extremely good-looking, and that she behaved +very well. I cannot say less in her favour. I am sure you would not +say less yourself, if you had been present."</p> + +<p>"She must be a wonderful young woman."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about her being wonderful."</p> + +<p>"She must be wonderful when she has succeeded both with the son and +with the father."</p> + +<p>"I wish you had been there instead of me," said the archdeacon +angrily. Mrs Grantly very probably wished so also, feeling that in +that case a more serene mode of business would have been adopted. How +keenly susceptible the archdeacon still was to the influences of +feminine charms, no one knew better than Mrs Grantly, and whenever +she became aware that he had been in this way seduced from the wisdom +of his cooler judgment she always felt something akin to indignation +against the seducer. As for her husband, she probably told herself at +such moments that he was an old goose. "If you had been there, and +Henry with you, you would have made a great deal worse job of it than +I have done," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"I don't say you have made a bad job of it, my dear," said Mrs +Grantly. "But it's past eight, and you must be terribly in want of +your dinner. Had you not better go and dress?"</p> + +<p>In the evening the plan of the future campaign was arranged between +them. The archdeacon would not write to his son at all. In passing +through Barchester he had abandoned his idea of despatching a note +from the hotel, feeling that such a note as would be required was not +easily written in a hurry. Mrs Grantly would now write to her son, +telling him that circumstances had changed, that it would be +altogether unnecessary for him to sell his furniture, and begging him +to come over and see his father without a day's delay. She wrote her +letter that night, and read to the archdeacon all that she had +written,—with the exception of the postscript:—"You may be quite +sure that there will be no unpleasantness with your father." That was +the postscript which was not communicated to the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>On the third day after that Henry Grantly did come over to Plumstead. +His mother in her letter to him had not explained how it had come to +pass that the sale of his furniture would be unnecessary. His father +had given him to understand distinctly that his income would be +withdrawn from him unless he would express his intention of giving up +Miss Crawley; and it had been admitted among them all that Cosby +Lodge must be abandoned if this were done. He certainly would not +give up Grace Crawley. Sooner than that, he would give up every stick +in his possession, and go an live in New Zealand if it were +necessary. Not only had Grace's conduct to him made him thus firm, +but the natural bent of his own disposition had tended that way also. +His father had attempted to dictate to him, and sooner than submit to +that he would sell the coat off his back. Had his father confined his +opposition to advice, and had Miss Crawley been less firm in her view +of her duty, the major might have been less firm also. But things had +so gone that he was determined to be fixed as granite. If others +would not be moved from their resolves, neither would he. Such being +the state of his mind, he could not understand why he was thus +summoned to Plumstead. He had already written over to Pau about his +house, and it was well that he should, at any rate, see his mother +before he started. He was willing, therefore, to go to Plumstead, but +he took no steps as to the withdrawal of those auctioneer's bills to +which the archdeacon so strongly objected. When he drove into the +rectory yard, his father was standing there before him. "Henry," he +said, "I am very glad to see you. I am very much obliged to you for +coming." Then Henry got out of his cart and shook hands with his +father, and the archdeacon began to talk about the weather. "Your +mother has gone into Barchester to see your grandfather," said the +archdeacon. "If you are not tired, we might as well take a walk. I +want to go up as far as Flurry's cottage." The major of course +declared that he was not at all tired, and that he should be +delighted of all things to go up and see old Flurry, and thus they +started. Young Grantly had not even been into the house before he +left the yard with his father. Of course, he was thinking of the +coming sale at Cosby Lodge, and of his future life at Pau, and of his +injured position in the world. There would be no longer any occasion +for him to be solicitous as to the Plumstead foxes. Of course these +things were in his mind; but he could not begin to speak of them till +his father did so. "I'm afraid your grandfather is not very strong," +said the archdeacon, shaking his head. "I fear he won't be with us +very long."</p> + +<p>"Is it so bad as that, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, he is an old man, Henry; and he was always somewhat +old for his age. He will be eighty, if he lives two years longer, I +think. But he'll never reach eighty;—never. You must go and see him +before you go back home; you must indeed." The major, of course, +promised that he would see his grandfather, and the archdeacon told +his son how nearly the old man had fallen in the passage between the +cathedral and the deanery. In this way they had nearly made their way +up to the gamekeeper's cottage without a word of reference to any +subject that touched upon the matter of which each of them was of +course thinking. Whether the major intended to remain at home or to +live at Pau, the subject of Mr Harding's health was a natural topic +for conversation between him and his father; but when his father +stopped suddenly, and began to tell him how a fox had been trapped on +Darvell's farm,—"and of course it was a Plumstead fox,—there can be +no doubt that Flurry is right about that;"—when the archdeacon spoke +of this iniquity with much warmth, and told his son how he had at +once written off to Mr Thorne of Ullathorne, and how Mr Thorne had +declared that he didn't believe a word of it, and how Flurry had +produced the pad of the fox, with the marks of the trap on the +skin,—then the son began to feel that the ground was becoming very +warm, and that he could not go on much longer without rushing into +details about Grace Crawley. "I've no more doubt that it was one of +our foxes than that I stand here," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter where the fox was bred. It shouldn't have been +trapped," said the major.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said the archdeacon, indignantly. I wonder whether +he would have been so keen had a Romanist priest come into his parish +and turned one of his Protestants into a Papist?</p> + +<p>Then Flurry came up, and produced the identical pad out of his +pocket. "I don't suppose it was intended," said the major, looking at +the interesting relic with scrutinising eyes. "I suppose it was +caught in a rabbit-trap,—eh, Flurry?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see what right a man has with traps at all, when gentlemen +is particular about their foxes," said Flurry. "Of course they'd call +it rabbits."</p> + +<p>"I never liked that man on Darvell's farm," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Nor I either," said Flurry. "No farmer ought to be on that land who +don't have a horse of his own. And if I war Squire Thorne, I wouldn't +have no farmer there who didn't keep no horse. When a farmer has a +horse of his own, and follies the hounds, there ain't no +rabbit-traps;—never. How does that come about, Mr Henry? Rabbits! I +know very well what rabbits is!"</p> + +<p>Mr Henry shook his head, and turned away, and the archdeacon followed +him. There was an hypocrisy about this pretended care for the foxes +which displeased the major. He could not, of course, tell his father +that the foxes were no longer anything to him; but yet he must make +it understood that such was his conviction. His mother had written to +him, saying that the sale of furniture need not take place. It might +be all very well for his mother to say that, or for his father; but, +after what had taken place, he could consent to remain in England on +no other understanding than that his income should be made permanent +to him. Such permanence must not be any longer dependent on his +father's caprice. In these days he had come to be somewhat in love +with poverty and Pau, and had been feeding on the luxury of his +grievance. There is, perhaps, nothing so pleasant as the preparation +for self-sacrifice. To give up Cosby Lodge and the foxes, to marry a +penniless wife, and to go and live at Pau on six or seven hundred a +year, seemed just now to Major Grantly to be a fine thing, and he did +not intend to abandon this fine thing without receiving a very clear +reason for doing so. "I can't quite understand Thorne," said the +archdeacon. "He used to be so particular about the foxes, and I don't +suppose that a country gentleman will change his ideas because he has +given up hunting himself."</p> + +<p>"Mr Thorne never thought very much of Flurry," said Henry Grantly, +with his mind intent upon Pau and his grievance.</p> + +<p>"He might take my word, at any rate," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>It was a known fact that the archdeacon's solicitude about the +Plumstead covers was wholly on behalf of his son the major. The major +himself knew this thoroughly, and felt that his father's present +special anxiety was intended as a corroboration of the tidings +conveyed in his mother's letter. Every word so uttered was meant to +have reference to his son's future residence in the country. +"Father," he said, turning round shortly, and standing before the +archdeacon in the pathway, "I think you are quite right about the +covers. I feel sure that every gentleman who preserves a fox does +good to the country. I am sorry that I shall not have a closer +interest in the matter myself."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't you have a closer interest in it?" said the +archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Because I shall be living abroad."</p> + +<p>"You got your mother's letter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I got my mother's letter."</p> + +<p>"Did she not tell you that you can stay where you are?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she said so. But, to tell you the truth, sir, I do not like the +risk of living beyond my assured income."</p> + +<p>"But if I justify it?"</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to complain, sir, but you have made me understand that +you can, and that in certain circumstances you will, at a moment, +withdraw what you give me. Since this was said to me, I have felt +myself to be unsafe in such a house as Cosby Lodge."</p> + +<p>The archdeacon did not know how to explain. He had intended that the +real explanation should be given by Mrs Grantly, and had been anxious +to return to his old relations with his son without any exact terms +on his own part. But his son was, as he thought, awkward, and would +drive him to some speech that was unnecessary. "You need not be +unsafe there at all," he said, half angrily.</p> + +<p>"I must be unsafe if I am not sure of my income."</p> + +<p>"Your income is not in any danger. But you had better speak to your +mother about it. For myself, I think I may say that I have never yet +behaved to any of you with any harshness. A son should, at any rate, +not be offended because a father thinks that he is entitled to some +consideration for what he does."</p> + +<p>"There are some points on which a son cannot give way even to his +father, sir."</p> + +<p>"You had better speak to your mother, Henry. She will explain to you +what has taken place. Look at that plantation. You don't remember it, +but every tree there was planted since you were born. I bought that +farm from old Mr Thorne, when he was purchasing St Ewold's Downs, and +it was the first bit of land I ever had of my own."</p> + +<p>"That is not in Plumstead, I think?"</p> + +<p>"No: this is Plumstead, where we stand, but that's in Eiderdown. The +parishes run in and out here. I never bought any other land as cheap +as I bought that."</p> + +<p>"And did old Thorne make a good purchase at St Ewold's?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I fancy he did. It gave him the whole of the parish, which was +a great thing. It is astonishing how land has risen in value since +that, and yet rents are not so very much higher. They who buy land +now can't have above two-and-a-half for their money."</p> + +<p>"I wonder people are so fond of land," said the major.</p> + +<p>"It is a comfortable feeling to know that you stand on your own +ground. Land is about the only thing that can't fly away. And then, +you see, land gives so much more than the rent. It gives position and +influence and political power, to say nothing about the game. We'll +go back now. I daresay your mother will be at home by this time."</p> + +<p>The archdeacon was striving to teach a great lesson to his son when +he thus spoke of the pleasure which a man feels when he stands upon +his own ground. He was bidding his son to understand how great was +the position of an heir to a landed property, and how small the +position of a man depending on what Dr Grantly himself would have +called a scratch income,—an income made up of a few odds and ends, a +share or two in this company and a share or two in that, a slight +venture in foreign stocks, a small mortgage and such-like convenient +but uninfluential driblets. A man, no doubt, may live at Pau on +driblets; may pay his way and drink his bottle of cheap wine, and +enjoy life after a fashion while reading <i>Galignani</i> and looking at +the mountains. But,—as it seemed to the archdeacon,—when there was +a choice between this kind of thing, and fox-covers at Plumstead, and +a seat among the magistrates of Barsetshire, and an establishment +full of horses, beeves, swine, carriages, and hayricks, a man brought +up as his son had been brought up ought not to be very long in +choosing. It never entered into the archdeacon's mind that he was +tempting his son; but Henry Grantly felt that he was having the good +things of the world shown to him, and that he was being told that +they should be his—for a consideration.</p> + +<p>The major, in his present mood, looked at the matter from his own +point of view, and determined that the consideration was too high. He +was pledged not to give up Grace Crawley, and he would not yield on +that point, though he might be tempted by all the fox-covers in +Barsetshire. At this moment he did not know how far his father was +prepared to yield, or how far it was expected that he should yield +himself. He was told that he had to speak to his mother. He would +speak to his mother, but, in the meantime, he could not bring himself +to make a comfortable answer to his father's eloquent praise of +landed property. He could not allow himself to be enthusiastic on the +matter till he knew what was expected of him if he chose to submit to +be made a British squire. At present <i>Galignani</i> and the mountains +had their charms for him. There was, therefore, but little +conversation between the father and the son as they walked back to +the rectory.</p> + +<p>Late that night the major heard the whole story from his mother. +Gradually, and as though unintentionally, Mrs Grantly told him all +she knew of the archdeacon's visit to Framley. Mrs Grantly was quite +as anxious as was her husband to keep her son at home, and therefore +she omitted in her story those little sneers against Grace which she +herself had been tempted to make by the archdeacon's fervour in the +girl's favour. The major said as little as was possible while he was +being told of his father's adventure, and expressed neither anger nor +satisfaction till he had been made thoroughly to understand that +Grace had pledged herself not to marry him as long as any suspicion +should rest upon her father's name.</p> + +<p>"Your father is quite satisfied with her," said Mrs Grantly. "He +thinks that she is behaving very well."</p> + +<p>"My father had no right to exact such a pledge."</p> + +<p>"But she made it of her own accord. She was the first to speak about +Mr Crawley's supposed guilt. Your father never mentioned it."</p> + +<p>"He must have led to it; and I think he had no right to do so. He had +no right to go to her at all."</p> + +<p>"Now don't be foolish, Henry."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that I am foolish."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are. A man is foolish if he won't take what he wants +without asking exactly how he is to come by it. That your father +should be anxious is the most natural thing in the world. You know +how high he has always held his own head, and how much he thinks +about the characters and the position of clergymen. It is not +surprising that he should dislike the idea of such a marriage."</p> + +<p>"Grace Crawley would disgrace no family," said the lover.</p> + +<p>"That's all very well for you to say, and I'll take your word that it +is so;—that is as far as the young lady goes herself. And there's +your father almost as much in love with her as you are. I don't know +what you would have?"</p> + +<p>"I would be left alone."</p> + +<p>"But what harm has been done you? From what you yourself have told +me, I know that Miss Crawley has said the same thing to you that she +has said to your father. You can't but admire her for the feeling."</p> + +<p>"I admire her for everything."</p> + +<p>"Very well. We don't say anything against that."</p> + +<p>"And I don't mean to give her up."</p> + +<p>"Very well again. Let us hope that Mr Crawley will be acquitted, and +then all will be right. Your father never goes back from his promise. +He is always better than his word. You'll find that if Mr Crawley is +acquitted, or if he escapes in any way, your father will only be +happy of an excuse to make much of the young lady. You should not be +hard on him, Henry. Don't you see that it is his one great desire to +keep you near him. The sight of those odious bills nearly broke his +heart."</p> + +<p>"Then why did he threaten me?"</p> + +<p>"Henry, you are obstinate."</p> + +<p>"I am not obstinate, mother."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are. You remember nothing, and you forget nothing. You +expect everything to be made smooth for you, and will do nothing +towards making things smooth for anybody else. You ought to promise +to give up the sale. If the worst came to the worst, your father +would not let you suffer in pocket for yielding to him so much."</p> + +<p>"If the worst comes to the worst, I wish to take nothing from my +father."</p> + +<p>"You won't put off the sale, then?"</p> + +<p>The son paused a moment before he answered his mother, thinking over +all the circumstances of his position. "I cannot do so as long as I +am subject to my father's threat," he said at last. "What took place +between my father and Miss Crawley can go for nothing with me. He has +told me that his allowance to me is to be withdrawn. Let him tell me +that he has reconsidered the matter."</p> + +<p>"But he has not withdrawn it. The last quarter was paid to your +account only the other day. He does not mean to withdraw it."</p> + +<p>"Let him tell me so; let him tell me that my power of living at Cosby +Lodge does not depend on my marriage,—that my income will be +continued to me whether I marry or no, and I'll arrange matters with +the auctioneer to-morrow. You can't suppose that I should prefer to +live in France."</p> + +<p>"Henry, you are too hard on your father."</p> + +<p>"I think, mother, he has been too hard upon me."</p> + +<p>"It is you that are to blame now. I tell you plainly that that is my +opinion. If evil comes of it, it will be your own fault."</p> + +<p>"If evil come of it, I must bear it."</p> + +<p>"A son ought to give up something to his father;—especially to a +father so indulgent as yours."</p> + +<p>But it was of no use. And Mrs Grantly when she went to her bed could +only lament in her own mind over what, in discussing the matter +afterwards with her sister, she called the cross-grainedness of men. +"They are as like each other as two peas," she said, "and though each +of them wished to be generous, neither of them would condescend to be +just." Early on the following morning there was, no doubt, much said +on the subject between the archdeacon and his wife before they met +their son at breakfast; but neither at breakfast nor afterwards was +there a word said between the father and the son that had the +slightest reference to the subject in dispute between them. The +archdeacon made no more speeches in favour of land, nor did he revert +to the foxes. He was very civil to his son;—too civil by half, as +Mrs Grantly continued to say to herself. And then the major drove +himself away in his cart, going through Barchester, so that he might +see his grandfather. When he wished his father good-by, the +archdeacon shook hands with him, and said something about the chance +of rain. Had he not better take the big umbrella? The major thanked +him courteously, and said that he did not think it would rain. Then +he was gone. "Upon his own head be it," said the archdeacon when his +son's step was heard in the passage leading to the back-yard. Then +Mrs Grantly got up quietly and followed her son. She found him +settling himself in his dog-cart, while the servant who was to +accompany him was still at the horse's head. She went up close to +him, and, standing by the wheel of the gig, whispered a word or two +into his ear. "If you love me, Henry, you will postpone the sale. Do +it for my sake." There came across his face a look of great pain, but +he answered her not a word.</p> + +<p>The archdeacon was walking about the room striking one hand open with +the other closed, clearly in a tumult of anger, when his wife +returned to him. "I have done all that I can," he said,—"all that I +can; more, indeed, than was becoming for me. Upon his own head be it. +Upon his own head be it."</p> + +<p>"What is it you fear?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I fear nothing. But if he chooses to sell his things at Cosby Lodge +he must abide the consequences. They shall not be replaced with my +money."</p> + +<p>"What will it matter if he does sell them?"</p> + +<p>"Matter! Do you think there is a single person in the county who will +not know that his doing so is a sign that he has quarrelled with me?"</p> + +<p>"But he has not quarrelled with you."</p> + +<p>"I can tell you, then, that in that case, I shall have quarrelled +with him! I have not been a hard father, but there are some things +which a man cannot bear. Of course you will take his part."</p> + +<p>"I am taking no part. I only want to see peace between you."</p> + +<p>"Peace!—yes; peace indeed. I am to yield in everything. I am to be +nobody. Look here;—as sure as ever an auctioneer's hammer is raised +at Cosby Lodge, I will alter the settlement of the property. Every +acre shall go to Charles. There is my word for it." The poor woman +had nothing more to say;—nothing more to say at that moment. She +thought that at the present conjuncture her husband was less in the +wrong than her son, but she could not tell him so lest she should +strengthen him in his wrath.</p> + +<p>Henry Grantly found his grandfather in bed, with Posy seated on the +bed beside him. "My father told me that you were not quite well, and +I thought that I would look in," said the major.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my dear;—it is very good of you. There is not much the +matter with me, but I am not quite so strong as I was once." And the +old man smiled as he held his grandson's hand.</p> + +<p>"And how is cousin Posy?" said the major.</p> + +<p>"Posy is quite well;—isn't she, my darling?" said the old man.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa doesn't go to the cathedral now," said Posy; "so I come in +to talk to him. Don't I, grandpa?"</p> + +<p>"And to play cat's-cradle;—only we have not had any cat's-cradle +this morning,—have we, Posy?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs Baxter told me not to play this morning, because it's cold for +grandpa to sit up in bed," said Posy.</p> + +<p>When the major had been there about twenty minutes he was preparing +to take his leave,—but Mr Harding, bidding Posy to go out of the +room, told his grandson that he had a word to say to him. "I don't +like to interfere, Henry," he said, "but I am afraid that things are +not quite smooth at Plumstead."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing wrong between me and my mother," said the major.</p> + +<p>"God forbid that there should be; but, my dear boy, don't let there +be anything wrong between you and your father. He is a good man, and +the time will come when you will be proud of his memory."</p> + +<p>"I am proud of him now."</p> + +<p>"Then be gentle with him,—and submit yourself. I am an old man +now,—very fast going away from all those I love here. But I am happy +in leaving my children because they have ever been gentle to me and +kind. If I am permitted to remember them whither I am going, my +thoughts of them will all be pleasant. Should it not be much to them +that they have made by death-bed happy?"</p> + +<p>The major could not but tell himself that Mr Harding had been a man +easy to please, easy to satisfy, and, in that respect, very different +from his father. But of course he said nothing of this. "I will do my +best," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Do, my boy. Honour thy father,—that thy days may be long in the +land."</p> + +<p>It seemed to the major as he drove away from Barchester that +everybody was against him; and yet he was sure that he himself was +right. He could not give up Grace Crawley; and unless he were to do +so he could not live at Cosby Lodge.</p> + + +<p><a name="c59" id="c59"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LIX</h3> +<h3>A Lady Presents Her Compliments to Miss L. D.<br /> </h3> + + +<p>One morning while Lily Dale was staying with Mrs Thorne in London, +there was brought up to her room, as she was dressing for dinner, a +letter which the postman had just left for her. The address was +written with a feminine hand, and Lily was at once aware that she did +not know the writing. The angles were very acute, and the lines were +very straight, and the vowels looked to be cruel and false, with +their sharp points and their open eyes. Lily at once knew that it was +the performance of a woman who had been taught to write at school, +and not at home, and she became prejudiced against the writer before +she opened the letter. When she had opened the letter and read it, +her feelings towards the writer were not of a kindly nature. It was +as follows:—</p> + +<p>"A lady presents her compliments to Miss L. D., and earnestly implores +Miss L. D. to give her an answer to the following question. Is Miss L. D. +engaged to marry Mr J. E.? The lady in question pledges herself not to +interfere with Miss L. D. in any way, should the answer be in the +affirmative. The lady earnestly requests that a reply to this +question may be sent to M. D., Post-office, 455 Edgware Road. In order +that L. D. may not doubt that M. D. has an interest in J. E., M. D. encloses +the last note she received from him before he started for the +Continent." Then there was a scrap, which Lily well knew to be in the +handwriting of John Eames, and the scrap was as follows:—"Dearest +M.—punctually at 8.30. Ever and always your unalterable J. E." Lily, +as she read this, did not comprehend that John's note to M. D. had been +in itself a joke.</p> + +<p>Lily Dale had heard of anonymous letters before, but had never +received one, or even seen one. Now that she had one in her hand, it +seemed to her that there could be nothing more abominable than the +writing of such a letter. She let it drop from her as though the +receiving, and opening, and reading it had been a stain to her. As it +lay on the ground at her feet, she trod upon it. Of what sort could a +woman be who wrote such a letter as that? Answer it! Of course she +would not answer it. It never occurred to her for a moment that it +could become her to answer it. Had she been at home or with her +mother, she would have called her mother to her, and Mrs Dale would +have taken it from the ground, and have read it, and then destroyed +it. As it was, she must pick it up herself. She did so, and declared +to herself that there should be an end to it. It might be right that +somebody should see it, and therefore she would show it to Emily +Dunstable; after that it should be destroyed.</p> + +<p>Of course the letter could have no effect upon her. So she told +herself. But it did have a very strong effect, and probably the exact +effect which the writer had intended that it should have. J. E. was, of +course, John Eames. There was no doubt about that. What a fool the +writer must have been to talk of L. D. in the letter, when the outside +cover was plainly addressed to Miss Lilian Dale! But there are some +people for whom the pretended mystery of initial letters has a charm, +and who love the darkness of anonymous letters. As Lily thought of +this, she stamped on the letter again. Who was the M. D. to whom she +was required to send an answer—with whom John Eames corresponded in +the most affectionate terms? She had resolved not even to ask herself +a question about M. D., and yet she could not divert her mind from the +inquiry. It was, at any rate, a fact that there must be some woman +designated by the letters,—some woman who had, at any rate, chosen +to call herself M. D. And John Eames had called her M. There must, at +any rate, be such a woman. This female, be she who she might, had +thought it worth her while to make this inquiry about John Eames, and +had manifestly learned something of Lily's own history. And the woman +had pledged herself not to interfere with John Eames, if L. D. would +only condescend to say that she was engaged to him! As Lily thought +of the proposition, she trod upon the letter for the third time. Then +she picked it up, and having no place of custody under lock and key +ready to her hand she put it in her pocket.</p> + +<p>At night, before she went to bed, she showed the letter to Emily +Dunstable. "Is it not surprising that any woman could bring herself +to write such a letter?" said Lily.</p> + +<p>But Miss Dunstable hardly saw it in the same light. "If anybody were +to write me such a letter about Bernard," said she, "I should show to +him as a good joke."</p> + +<p>"That would be very different. You and Bernard, of course, understand +each other."</p> + +<p>"And so will you and Mr Eames—some day, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Never more than we do now, dear. The thing that annoys me is that +such a woman as that should have even heard my name at all."</p> + +<p>"As long as people have got ears and tongues, people will hear other +people's names."</p> + +<p>Lily paused a moment, and then spoke again, asking another question. +"I suppose this woman does know him? She must know him, because he +has written to her."</p> + +<p>"She knows something about him, no doubt, and has some reason for +wishing that you should quarrel with him. If I were you, I should +take care not to gratify her. As for Mr Eames's note, it is a joke."</p> + +<p>"It is nothing to me," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," continued Emily, "that most gentlemen become acquainted +with some people that they would not wish all their friends to know +that they knew. They go about so much more than we do, and meet +people of all sorts."</p> + +<p>"No gentleman should become intimately acquainted with a woman who +could write such a letter as that," said Lily. And as she spoke she +remembered a certain episode to John Eames's early life, which had +reached her from a source which she had not doubted, and which had +given her pain and offended her. She had believed that John Eames had +in that case behaved very cruelly to a young woman, and had thought +that her offence had come simply from that feeling. "But of course it +is nothing to me," she said. "Mr Eames can choose his friends as he +likes. I only wish that my name might not be mentioned to them."</p> + +<p>"It is not from him that she has heard it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. As I said before, of course it does not signify; only +there is something very disagreeable in the whole thing. The idea is +so hateful! Of course this woman means me to understand that she +considers herself to have a claim upon Mr Eames, and that I stand in +her way."</p> + +<p>"And why should you stand in her way?"</p> + +<p>"I will stand in nobody's way. Mr Eames has a right to give his hand +to any one that he pleases. I, at any rate, can have no cause of +offence against him. The only thing is that I do wish that my name +could be left alone." Lily, when she was in her own room again, did +destroy the letter; but before she did so she read it again, and it +became so indelibly impressed on her memory that she could not forget +even the words of it. The lady who wrote had pledged herself, under +certain conditions, "not to interfere with Miss L. D." "Interfere with +me!" Lily said to herself; "nobody can interfere with me; nobody has +power to do so." As she turned it over in her mind, her heart became +hard against John Eames. No woman would have troubled herself to +write such a letter without some cause for the writing. That the +writer was vulgar, false, and unfeminine, Lily thought that she could +perceive from the letter itself; but no doubt the woman knew John +Eames, had some interest in the question of his marriage, and was +entitled to some answer to her question—only was not entitled to +such answer from Lily Dale.</p> + +<p>For some weeks past now, up to the hour at which the anonymous letter +had reached her hands, Lily's heart had been growing soft and still +softer towards John Eames; and now again it had become hardened. I +think that the appearance of Adolphus Crosbie in the Park, that +momentary vision of the real man by which the divinity of the +imaginary Apollo had been dashed to the ground, had done a service to +the cause of the other lover; of the lover who had never been a god, +but who of late years had at any rate grown into the full dimensions +of a man. Unfortunately for the latter, he had commenced his +love-making when he was but little more than a boy. Lily, as she had +thought of the two together, in the days of her solitude, after she +had been deserted by Crosbie, had ever pictured to herself the lover +whom she had preferred as having something godlike in his favour, as +being far the superior in wit, in manner, in acquirement, and in +personal advantage. There had been good-nature and true hearty love +on the side of the other man; but circumstances had seemed to show +that his good-nature was equal to all, and that he was able to share +even his hearty love among two or three. A man of such a character, +known by a girl from his boyhood as John Eames had been known by Lily +Dale, was likely to find more favour as a friend than as a lover. So +it had been between John Eames and Lily. While the untrue memory of +what Crosbie was, or ever had been, was present to her, she could +hardly bring herself to accept in her mind the idea of a lover who +was less noble in his manhood than the false picture which that +untrue memory was ever painting for her. Then had come before her +eyes the actual man; and though he had been seen but for a moment, +the false image had been broken into shivers. Lily had discovered +that she had been deceived, and that her forgiveness had been asked, +not by a god, but by an ordinary human being. As regarded the +ungodlike man himself, this could make no difference. Having thought +upon the matter deeply, she had resolved that she would not marry Mr +Crosbie, and had pledged herself to that effect to friends who never +could have brought themselves to feel affection for him, even had she +married him. But the shattering of the false image might have done +John Eames a good turn. Lily knew that she had at any rate full +permission from all her friends to throw in her lot with his,—if she +could persuade herself to do so. Mother, uncle, sister, +brother-in-law, cousin,—and now this new cousin's bride that was to +be,—together with Lady Julia and a whole crowd of Allington and +Guestwick friends, were in favour of such a marriage. There had been +nothing against it but the fact that the other man had been dearer to +her; and that other fact that poor Johnny lacked +something,—something of earnestness, something of manliness, +something of that Phoebus divinity with which Crosbie had contrived +to invest his own image. But, as I have said above, John had +gradually grown, if not into divinity, at least into manliness; and +the shattering of the false image had done him yeoman's service. Now +had come this accursed letter, and Lily, despite herself, despite her +better judgment, could not sweep it away from her mind and make the +letter as nothing to her. M. D. had promised not to interfere with her! +There was no room for such interference, no possibility that such +interference should take place. She hoped earnestly,—so she told +herself,—that her old friend John Eames might have nothing to do +with a woman so impudent and vulgar as must be this M. D.; but except +as regarded old friendship, M. D. and John Eames, apart or together, +could be as nothing to her. Therefore, I say that the letter had had +the effect which the writer of it had desired.</p> + +<p>All London was new to Lily Dale, and Mrs Thorne was very anxious to +show her everything that could be seen. She was to return to +Allington before the flowers of May would have come, and the crowd +and the glare and the fashion and the art of the Academy's great +exhibition must therefore remain unknown to her; but she was taken to +see many pictures, and among others she was taken to see the pictures +belonging to a certain nobleman who, with that munificence which is +so amply enjoyed and so little recognised in England, keeps open +house for the world to see the treasures which the wealth of his +family had collected. The necessary order was procured, and on a +certain brilliant April afternoon, Mrs Thorne and her party found +themselves in this nobleman's drawing-room. Lily was with her, of +course, and Emily Dunstable was there, and Bernard Dale, and Mrs +Thorne's dear friend Mrs Harold Smith, and Mrs Thorne's constant and +useful attendant, Siph Dunn. They had nearly completed their +delightful but wearying task of gazing at pictures, and Mrs Harold +Smith had declared that she would not look at another painting till +the exhibition was open; three of the ladies were seated in the +drawing-room, and Siph Dunn was standing before them, lecturing about +art as though he had been brought up on the ancient masters; Emily +and Bernard were lingering behind, and the others were simply +delaying their departure till the truant lovers should have caught +them. At this moment two gentlemen entered the room from the gallery, +and the two gentlemen were Fowler Pratt and Adolphus Crosbie.</p> + +<p>All the party except Mrs Thorne knew Crosbie personally, and all of +them except Mrs Harold Smith knew something of the story of what had +occurred between Crosbie and Lily. Siph Dunn had learned it all since +the meeting in the park, having nearly learned it all from what he +had seen with there with his eyes. But Mrs Thorne, who knew Lily's +story, did not know Crosbie's appearance. But there was his friend +Fowler Pratt, who, as will be remembered, had dined with her but the +other day; and she, with that outspoken and somewhat loud impulse +which was natural to her, addressed him at once across the room, +calling him by name. Had she not done so, the two men might probably +have escaped through the room, in which case they would have met +Bernard Dale and Emily Dunstable in the doorway. Fowler Pratt would +have endeavoured so to escape, and to carry Crosbie with him, as he +was quite alive to the expedience of saving Lily from such a meeting. +But, as things turned out, escape from Mrs Thorne was impossible.</p> + +<p>"There's Fowler Pratt," she had said when they first entered, quite +loud enough for Fowler Pratt to hear her. "Mr Pratt, come here. How +d'ye do? You dined with me last Tuesday, and you've never been to +call."</p> + +<p>"I never recognise that obligation till after the middle of May," +said Mr Pratt, shaking hands with Mrs Thorne and Mrs Smith, and +bowing to Miss Dale.</p> + +<p>"I don't see the justice of that at all," said Mrs Thorne. "It seems +to me that a good dinner is as much entitled to a morsel of +pasteboard in April as at any other time. You won't have another till +you have called,—unless you're specially wanted."</p> + +<p>Crosbie would have gone on, but that in his attempt to do so he +passed close by the chair on which Mrs Harold Smith was sitting, and +that he was accosted by her. "Mr Crosbie," she said, "I haven't seen +you for an age. Has it come to pass that you have buried yourself +entirely?" He did not know how to extricate himself so as to move on +at once. He paused, and hesitated, and then stopped, and made an +attempt to talk to Mrs Smith as though he were at his ease. The +attempt was anything but successful; but having once stopped, he did +not know how to put himself in motion again, so that he might escape. +At this moment Bernard Dale and Emily Dunstable came up and joined +the group; but neither of them had discovered who Crosbie was till +they were close upon him.</p> + +<p>Lily was seated between Mrs Thorne and Mrs Smith, and Siph Dunn had +been standing immediately opposite to them. Fowler Pratt, who had +been drawn into the circle against his will, was now standing close +to Dunn, almost between him and Lily,—and Crosbie was standing +within two yards of Lily, on the other side of Dunn. Emily and +Bernard had gone behind Pratt and Crosbie to Mrs Thorne's side before +they had recognised the two men;—and in this way Lily was completely +surrounded. Mrs Thorne, who in spite of her eager, impetuous ways, +was as thoughtful of others as any woman could be, as soon as she +heard Crosbie's name understood it all, and knew that it would be +well that she should withdraw Lily from her plight. Crosbie, in his +attempt to talk to Mrs Smith, had smiled and simpered, and had then +felt that to smile and simper before Lily Dale, with a pretended +indifference to her presence, was false on his part, and would seem +to be mean. He would have avoided Lily for both their sakes, had it +been possible; but it was no longer possible, and he could not keep +his eyes from her face. Hardly knowing what he did, he bowed to her, +lifted his hat, and uttered some word of greeting.</p> + +<p>Lily, from the moment that she had perceived his presence, had looked +straight before her, with something almost of fierceness in her eyes. +Both Pratt and Siph Dunn had observed her narrowly. It had seemed as +though Crosbie had been altogether outside the ken of her eyes, or +the notice of her ears, and yet she had seen every motion of his +body, and had heard every word which had fallen from his lips. Now, +when he saluted her, she turned her face full upon him, and bowed to +him. Then she rose from her seat, and made her way, between Siph Dunn +and Pratt, out of the circle. The blood had mounted to her face and +suffused it all, and her whole manner was such that it could escape +the observation of none who stood there. Even Mrs Harold Smith had +seen it, and had read the story. As soon as she was on her feet, +Bernard had dropped Emily's hand, and offered his arm to his cousin. +"Lily," he had said out loud, "you had better let me take you away. +It is a misfortune that you have been subjected to the insult of such +a greeting." Bernard and Crosbie had been early friends, and Bernard +had been the unfortunate means of bringing Crosbie and Lily together. +Up to this day, Bernard had never had his revenge for the +ill-treatment which his cousin had received. Some morsel of that +revenge came to him now. Lily almost hated her cousin for what he +said; but she took his arm, and walked with him from the room. It +must be acknowledged in excuse for Bernard Dale, and as an apology +for the apparent indiscretion of his words, that all the +circumstances of the meeting had become apparent to every one there. +The misfortune of the encounter had become too plain to admit of its +being hidden under any of the ordinary veils of society. Crosbie's +salutation had been made before the eyes of them all, and in the +midst of absolute silence, and Lily had risen with so queen-like a +demeanour, and had moved with so stately a step, that it was +impossible that any one concerned should pretend to ignore the facts +of the scene that had occurred. Crosbie was still standing close to +Mrs Harold Smith, Mrs Thorne had risen from her seat, and the words +which Bernard Dale had uttered were still sounding in the ears of +them all. "Shall I see after the carriage?" said Siph Dunn. "Do," +said Mrs Thorne; "or, stay a moment; the carriage will of course be +there, and we will go together. Good-morning, Mr Pratt. I expect +that, at any rate, you will send me your card by post." Then they all +passed on, and Crosbie and Fowler Pratt were left among the pictures.</p> + +<p>"I think you will agree with me now that you had better give her up," +said Fowler Pratt.</p> + +<p>"I will never give her up," said Crosbie, "till I hear that she has +married some one else."</p> + +<p>"You may take my word for it, that she will never marry you after +what has just now occurred."</p> + +<p>"Very likely not; but still the attempt, even the idea of the attempt +will be a comfort to me. I shall be endeavouring to do that which I +ought to have done."</p> + +<p>"What you have got to think of, I should suppose, is her +comfort,—not your own."</p> + +<p>Crosbie stood for a while silent, looking at a portrait which was +hung just within the doorway of a smaller room into which they had +passed, as though his attention were entirely rivetted by the +picture. But he was thinking of the picture not at all, and did not +even know what kind of painting was on the canvas before him.</p> + +<p>"Pratt," he said at last, "you are always hard to me."</p> + +<p>"I will say nothing more to you on the subject, if you wish me to be +silent."</p> + +<p>"I do wish you to be silent about that."</p> + +<p>"That shall be enough," said Pratt.</p> + +<p>"You do not quite understand me. You do not know how thoroughly I +have repented of the evil that I have done, or how far I would go to +make retribution, if retribution were possible."</p> + +<p>Fowler Pratt, having been told to hold his tongue as regarded that +subject, made no reply to this, and began to talk about the pictures.</p> + +<p>Lily, leaning on her cousin's arm, was out in the courtyard in front +of the house before Mrs Thorne and Siph Dunn. It was but for a +minute, but still there was a minute in which Bernard felt that he +ought to say a word to her.</p> + +<p>"I hope you are not angry with me, Lily, for having spoken."</p> + +<p>"I wish, of course, that you had not spoken; but I am not angry. I +have no right to be angry. I made the misfortune for myself. Do not +say anything more about it, dear Bernard;—that is all."</p> + +<p>They had walked to the picture-gallery; but, by agreement, two +carriages had come to take them away,—Mrs Thorne's and Mrs Harold +Smith's. Mrs Thorne easily managed to send Emily Dunstable and +Bernard away with her friend, and to tell Siph Dunn that he must +manage for himself. In this way it was contrived that no one but Mrs +Thorne should be with Lily Dale.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Mrs Thorne, "it seemed to me that you were a little +put out, and so I thought it best to send them all away."</p> + +<p>"It was very kind."</p> + +<p>"He ought to have passed on and not to have stood an instant when he +saw you," said Mrs Thorne, with indignation. "There are moments when +it is a man's duty simply to vanish, to melt into the air, or to sink +into the ground,—in which he is bound to overcome the difficulties +of such sudden self-removal, or must ever after be accounted poor and +mean."</p> + +<p>"I did not want him to vanish;—if only he had not spoken to me."</p> + +<p>"He should have vanished. A man is sometimes bound in honour to do +so, even when he himself has done nothing wrong;—when the sin has +been all with the woman. Her femininity has still a right to expect +that so much shall be done in its behalf. But when the sin has been +all his own, as it was in this case,—and such damning +sin too,<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Pray do not go on, Mrs Thorne."</p> + +<p>"He ought to go out and hang himself simply for having allowed +himself to be seen. I thought Bernard behaved very well, and I shall +tell him so."</p> + +<p>"I wish you could manage to forget it all, and say no word more about +it."</p> + +<p>"I won't trouble you with it, my dear; I will promise you that. But, +Lily, I can hardly understand you. This man who must have been and +must ever be a brute,<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Mrs Thorne, you promised me this instant that you would not talk of +him."</p> + +<p>"After this I will not; but you must let me have my way now for one +moment. I have so often longed to speak to you, but have not done so +from fear of offending you. Now the matter has come up by chance, and +it was impossible that what has occurred should pass by without a +word. I cannot conceive why the memory of that bad man should be +allowed to destroy your whole life."</p> + +<p>"My life is not destroyed. My life is anything but destroyed. It is a +very happy life."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, if all that I hear is true, there is a most estimable +young man, whom everybody likes, and particularly your own family, +and whom you like very much yourself; and you will have nothing to +say to him, though his constancy is like the constancy of an old +Paladin,—and all because of this wretch who just now came in your +way."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Thorne, it is impossible to explain it all."</p> + +<p>"I do not want you to explain it all. Of course I would not ask any +young woman to marry a man whom she did not love. Such marriages are +abominable to me. But I think that a young woman ought to get married +if the thing fairly comes in her way, and if her friends approve, and +if she is fond of the man who is fond of her. It may be that some +memory of what has gone before is allowed to stand in your way, and +that it should not be so allowed. It sometimes happens that a horrid +morbid sentiment will destroy a life. Excuse me, then, Lily, if I say +too much to you in my hope that you may not suffer after this +fashion."</p> + +<p>"I know how kind you are, Mrs Thorne."</p> + +<p>"Here we are at home, and perhaps you would like to go in. I have +some calls which I must make." Then the conversation was ended, and +Lily was alone.</p> + +<p>As if she had not thought of it all before! As if there was anything +new in this counsel which Mrs Thorne had given her! She had received +the same advice from her mother, from her sister, from her uncle, and +from Lady Julia, till she was sick of it. How had it come to pass +that matters which with others are so private, should with her have +become the public property of so large a circle? Any other girl would +receive advice on such a subject from her mother alone, and there the +secret would rest. But her secret had been published, as it were, by +the town-crier in the High Street! Everybody knew that she had been +jilted by Adolphus Crosbie, and that it was intended that she should +be consoled by John Eames. And people seemed to think that they had a +right to rebuke her if she expressed an unwillingness to carry out +this intention which the public had so kindly arranged for her.</p> + +<p>Morbid sentiment! Why should she be accused of morbid sentiment +because she was unable to transfer her affections to the man who had +been fixed on as her future husband by the large circle of +acquaintances who had interested themselves in her affairs? There was +nothing morbid in either her desires or her regrets. So she assured +herself, with something very much like anger at the accusation made +against her. She had been contented, and was contented, to live at +home as her mother lived, asking for no excitement beyond that given +by the daily routine of her duties. There could be nothing morbid in +that. She would go back to Allington as soon as might be, and have +done with this London life, which only made her wretched. This seeing +of Crosbie had been terrible to her. She did not tell herself that +his image had been shattered. Her idea was that all her misery had +come from the untowardness of the meeting. But there was the fact +that she had seen the man and heard his voice, and that the seeing +him and hearing him had made her miserable. She certainly desired +that it might never be her lot either to see him or to hear him +again.</p> + +<p>And as for John Eames,—in those bitter moments of her reflection she +almost wished the same in regard to him. If he would only cease to be +her lover, he might be very well; but he was not very well to her as +long as his pretensions were dinned into her ear by everybody who +knew her. And then she told herself that John would have a better +chance if he had been content to plead for himself. In this, I think, +she was hard upon her lover. He had pleaded for himself as well as he +knew how, and as often as the occasion had been given to him. It had +hardly been his fault that his case had been taken in hand by other +advocates. He had given no commission to Mrs Thorne to plead for him.</p> + +<p>Poor Johnny. He had stood in much better favour before the lady had +presented her compliments to Miss L. D. It was that odious letter, and +the thoughts which it had forced upon Lily's mind, which were now +most inimical to his interests. Whether Lily loved him or not, she +did not love him well enough to be jealous of him. Had any such +letter reached her respecting Crosbie in the happy days of her young +love, she would simply have laughed at it. It would have been nothing +to her. But now she was sore and unhappy, and any trifle was powerful +enough to irritate her. "Is Miss L. D. engaged to marry Mr J. E.?" "No," +said Lily, out loud. "Lily Dale is not engaged to marry John Eames, +and never will be so engaged." She was almost tempted to sit down and +write the required answer to Miss M. D. Though the letter had been +destroyed, she well remembered the number of the post-office in the +Edgware Road. Poor John Eames.</p> + +<p>That evening she told Emily Dunstable that she thought she would like +to return to Allington before the day that had been appointed for +her. "But why," said Emily, "should you be worse than your word?"</p> + +<p>"I daresay it will seem silly, but the fact is I am homesick. I'm not +accustomed to be away from mama for so long."</p> + +<p>"I hope it is not what occurred to-day at the picture-gallery."</p> + +<p>"I won't deny that it is that in part."</p> + +<p>"That was a strange accident, you know, that might never occur +again."</p> + +<p>"It has occurred twice already, Emily."</p> + +<p>"I don't call the affair in the park anything. Anybody may see +anybody else in the Park, of course. He was not brought so near you +that he could annoy you there. You ought certainly to wait till Mr +Eames has come back from Italy."</p> + +<p>Then Lily decided that she must and would go back to Allington on the +next Monday, and she actually did write a letter to her mother that +night to say that such was her intention. But on the morrow her heart +was less sore, and the letter was not sent.</p> + + +<p><a name="c60" id="c60"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LX</h3> +<h3>The End of Jael and Sisera<br /> </h3> + + +<p>There was to be one more sitting for the picture, as the reader will +remember, and the day for that sitting had arrived. Conway Dalrymple +had in the meantime called at Mrs Van Siever's house, hoping that he +might be able to see Clara, and make his offer there. But he had +failed in his attempt to reach her. He had found it impossible to say +all that he had to say in the painting-room, during the very short +intervals which Mrs Broughton left to him. A man should be allowed to +be alone more than fifteen minutes with a young lady on the occasion +in which he offers to her his hand and his heart; but hitherto he had +never had more than fifteen minutes at his command; and then there +had been the turban! He had also in the meantime called on Mrs +Broughton, with the intention of explaining to her that if she really +intended to favour his views in respect to Miss Van Siever, she ought +to give him a little more liberty for expressing himself. On this +occasion he had seen his friend, but had not been able to go as +minutely as he wished into the matter that was so important to +himself. Mrs Broughton had found it necessary during this meeting to +talk almost exclusively about herself and her own affairs. "Conway," +she had said, directly she saw him, "I am so glad you have come. I +think I should have gone mad if I had not seen some one who cares for +me." This was early in the morning, not much after eleven, and Mrs +Broughton, hearing first his knock at the door, and then his voice, +had met him in the hall and taken him into the dining-room.</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Conway!"</p> + +<p>"What is it? Has anything gone wrong with Dobbs?"</p> + +<p>"Everything has gone wrong with him. He is ruined."</p> + +<p>"Heaven and earth! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Simply what I say. But you must not speak a word of it. I do not +know it from himself."</p> + +<p>"How do you know it?"</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment. Sit down there, will you?—and I will sit by you. No, +Conway; do not take my hand. It is not right. There;—so. Yesterday +Mrs Van Siever was here. I need not tell you all that she said to me, +even if I could. She was very harsh and cruel, saying all manner of +things about Dobbs. How can I help it, if he drinks? I have not +encouraged him. And as for expensive living, I have been as ignorant +as a child. I have never asked for anything. When we were married +somebody told me how much we should have to spend. It was either two +thousand, or three thousand, or four thousand, or something like +that. You know, Conway, how ignorant I am about money;—that I am +like a child. Is it not true?" She waited for an answer and Dalrymple +was obliged to acknowledge that it was true. And yet he had known the +times in which his dear friend had been very sharp in her memory with +reference to a few pounds. "And now she says that Dobbs owes her +money which he cannot pay her, and that everything must be sold. She +says that Musselboro must have the business, and that Dobbs must +shift for himself elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe that she has the power to decide that things shall go +this way or that,—as she pleases?"</p> + +<p>"How am I to know? She says so, and she says it is because he drinks. +He does drink. That at least is true; but how can I help it? Oh, +Conway, what am I to do? Dobbs did not come home at all last night, +but sent for his things,—saying that he must stay in the City. What +am I to do if they come and take the house, and sell the furniture, +and turn me out into the street?" Then the poor creature began to cry +in earnest, and Dalrymple had to console her as best he might. "How I +wish I had known you first," she said. To this Dalrymple was able to +make no direct answer. He was wise enough to know that a direct +answer might possibly lead him into terrible trouble. He was by no +means anxious to find himself "protecting" Mrs Dobbs Broughton from +the ruin which her husband had brought upon her.</p> + +<p>Before he left her she had told him a long story, partly of matters +of which he had known something before, and partly made up of that +which she had heard from the old woman. It was settled, Mrs Broughton +said, that Mr Musselboro was to marry Clara Van Siever. But it +appeared, as far as Dalrymple could learn, that this was a settlement +made simply between Mrs Van Siever and Musselboro. Clara, as he +thought, was not a girl likely to fall into such a settlement without +having an opinion of her own. Musselboro was to have the business, +and Dobbs Broughton was to be "sold up", and then look for employment +in the City. From her husband the wife had not heard a word on the +matter, and the above story was simply what had been told to Mrs +Broughton by Mrs Van Siever. "For myself it seems that there can be +but one fate," said Mrs Broughton. Dalrymple, in his tenderest voice, +asked what that one fate must be. "Never mind," said Mrs Broughton. +"There are some things which one cannot tell even to such a friend as +you." He was sitting near her and had all but got his arm behind her +waist. He was, however, able to be prudent. "Maria," he said, getting +up on his feet, "if it should really come about that you should want +anything, you will send to me. You will promise me that, at any +rate?" She rubbed a tear from her eye and said that she did not know. +"There are moments in which a man must speak plainly," said Conway +Dalrymple;—"in which it would be unmanly not to do so, however +prosaic it may seem. I need hardly tell you that my purse shall be +yours if you want it." But just at that moment she did not want his +purse, nor must it be supposed that she wanted to run away with him +and to leave her husband to fight the battle alone with Mrs Van +Siever. The truth was that she did not know what she wanted, over and +beyond an assurance from Conway Dalrymple that she was the most +ill-used, the most interesting, and the most beautiful woman ever +heard of, either in history or romance. Had he proposed to her to +pack up a bundle and go off with him in a cab to the London, Chatham +and Dover railway station, I do not for a moment think that she would +have packed up her bundle. She would have received intense +gratification from the offer,—so much so that she would have been +almost consoled for her husband's ruin; but she would have scolded +her lover, and would have explained to him the great iniquity of +which he was guilty. It was clear to him that at this present time he +could not make any special terms with her as to Clara Van Siever. At +such a moment as this he could hardly ask her to keep out of the way, +in order that he might have his opportunity. But when he suggested +that probably it might be better, in the present emergency, to give +up the idea of any further sitting in her room, and proposed to send +for his canvas, colour-box, and easel, she told him that, as far as +she was concerned, he was welcome to have that one other sitting for +which they had all bargained. "You had better come to-morrow, as we +had agreed," she said; "and unless I shall have been turned out into +the street by the creditors, you may have the room as you did before. +And you must remember, Conway, that though Mrs Van Siever says that +Musselboro is to have Clara, it doesn't follow that Clara should give +way." When we consider everything, we must acknowledge that this was, +at any rate, good-natured. Then there was a tender parting, with many +tears, and Conway Dalrymple escaped from the house.</p> + +<p>He did not for a moment doubt the truth of the story which Mrs +Broughton had told, as far, at least, as it referred to the ruin of +Dobbs Broughton. He had heard something of this before, and for some +weeks had expected that a crash was coming. Broughton's rise had been +very sudden, and Dalrymple had never regarded his friend as firmly +placed in the commercial world. Dobbs was one of those men who seem +born to surprise the world by a spurt of prosperity, and might, +perhaps, have a second spurt, or even a third, could he have kept +himself from drinking in the morning. But Dalrymple, though he was +hardly astonished by the story, as it regarded Broughton, was put out +by that part of it which had reference to Musselboro. He had known +that Musselboro had been introduced to Broughton by Mrs Van Siever, +but, nevertheless, he had regarded the man as being no more than +Broughton's clerk. And now he was told that Musselboro was to marry +Clara Van Siever, and have all Mrs Van Siever's money. He resolved, +at last, that he would run his risk about the money, and take Clara +either with or without it, if she would have him. And as for that +difficulty in asking her, if Mrs Broughton would give him no +opportunity of putting the question behind her back, he would put it +before her face. He had not much leisure for consideration on these +points, as the next day was the day for the last sitting.</p> + +<p>On the following morning he found Miss Van Siever already seated in +Mrs Broughton's room when he reached it. And at the moment Mrs +Broughton was not there. As he took Clara's hand he could not prevent +himself from asking her whether she had heard anything? "Heard what?" +asked Clara. "Then you have not," said he. "Never mind now, as Mrs +Broughton is here." Then Mrs Broughton had entered the room. She +seemed to be quite cheerful, but Dalrymple perfectly understood, from +a special glance which she gave to him, that he was to perceive that +her cheerfulness was assumed for Clara's benefit. Mrs Broughton was +showing how great a heroine she could be on behalf of her friends. +"Now, my dear," she said, "do remember that this is the last day. It +may be very well, Conway, and, of course, you know best; but as far +as I can see, you have not made half as much progress as you ought to +have done." "We shall do excellently well," said Dalrymple. "So much +the better," said Mrs Broughton; "and now, Clara, I'll place you." +And so Clara was placed on her knees, with the turban on her head.</p> + +<p>Dalrymple began his work assiduously, knowing that Mrs Broughton +would not leave the room for some minutes. It was certain that she +would remain for a quarter of an hour, and it might be as well that +he should really use that time on the picture. The peculiar position +in which he was placed probably made his work difficult to him. There +was something perplexing in the necessity which bound him to look +upon the young lady before him both as Jael and as the future Mrs +Conway Dalrymple, knowing as he did that she was at present simply +Clara Van Siever. A double personification was not difficult to him. +He had encountered it with every model that had sat to him, and with +every young lady he had attempted to win,—if he had ever made such +an attempt with one before. But the triple character, joined to the +necessity of the double work, was distressing to him. "The hand a +little further back, if you don't mind," he said, "and the wrist more +turned towards me. That is just it. Lean a little more over him. +There—that will do exactly." If Mrs Broughton did not go very +quickly, he must begin to address his model on a totally different +subject, even while she was in the act of slaying Sisera.</p> + +<p>"Have you made up your mind who is to be Sisera?" asked Mrs +Broughton.</p> + +<p>"I think I shall put in my own face," said Dalrymple; "if Miss Van +Siever does not object.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," said Clara, speaking without moving her +face—almost without moving her lips.</p> + +<p>"That will be excellent," said Mrs Broughton. She was still quite +cheerful, and really laughed as she spoke. "Shall you like the idea, +Clara, of striking the nail right through his head?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; as well his head as another's. I shall seem to be having +my revenge for all the trouble he has given me."</p> + +<p>There was a slight pause, and then Dalrymple spoke. "You have had +that already, in striking me right through the heart."</p> + +<p>"What a very pretty speech! Was it not, my dear?" said Mrs Broughton. +And then Mrs Broughton laughed. There was something slightly +hysterical in her laugh which grated on Dalrymple's ears,—something +which seemed to tell him that at the present moment his dear friend +was not going to assist him honestly in his effort.</p> + +<p>"Only that I should put him out, I would get up and make a curtsey," +said Clara. No young lady could ever talk of making a curtsey for +such a speech if she supposed it to have been made in earnestness. +And Clara, no doubt, understood that a man might make a hundred such +speeches in the presence of a third person without any danger that +they would be taken as meaning anything. All this Dalrymple knew, and +began to think that he had better put down his palette and brush, and +do the work which he had before him in the most prosaic language that +he could use. He could, at any rate, succeed in making Clara +acknowledge his intention in this way. He waited still for a minute +or two, and it seemed to him that Mrs Broughton had no intention of +piling her fagots on the present occasion. It might be that the +remembrance of her husband's ruin prevented her from sacrificing +herself in the other direction also.</p> + +<p>"I am not very good at pretty speeches, but I am good at telling the +truth," said Dalrymple.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Mrs Broughton, still with a touch of hysterical +action in her throat. "Upon my word, Conway, you know how to praise +yourself."</p> + +<p>"He dispraises himself most unnecessarily in denying the prettiness +of his language," said Clara. As she spoke she hardly moved her lips, +and Dalrymple went on painting from the model. It was clear that Miss +Van Siever understood that the painting, and not the pretty speeches, +was the important business on hand.</p> + +<p>Mrs Broughton had now tucked her feet up on the sofa, and was gazing +at the artist as he stood at his work. Dalrymple, remembering how he +had offered her his purse,—an offer which, in the existing crisis of +her affairs, might mean a great deal,—felt that she was ill-natured. +Had she intended to do him a good turn, she would have gone now; but +there she lay, with her feet tucked up, clearly proposing to be +present through the whole of the morning's sitting. His anger against +her added something to his spirit, and made him determine that he +would carry out his purpose. Suddenly, therefore, he prepared himself +for action.</p> + +<p>He was in the habit of working with a Turkish cap on his head, and +with a short apron tied round him. There was something picturesque +about the cap, which might not have been incongruous with +love-making. It is easy to suppose that Juan wore a Turkish cap when +he sat with Haidee in Lambro's island. But we may be quite sure that +he did not wear an apron. Now Dalrymple had thought of all this, and +had made up his mind to work to-day without his apron; but when +arranging his easel and his brushes, he had put it on from the force +of habit, and was now disgusted with himself as he remembered it. He +put down his brush, divested his thumb of his palette, then took off +his cap, and after that untied the apron.</p> + +<p>"Conway, what are you going to do?" said Mrs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"I am going to ask Clara Van Siever to be my wife," said Dalrymple. +At that moment the door was opened, and Mrs Van Siever entered the +room.</p> + +<p>Clara had not risen from her kneeling posture when Dalrymple began to +put off his trappings. She had not seen what he was doing as plainly +as Mrs Broughton had done, having her attention naturally drawn +towards her Sisera; and, besides this, she understood that she was to +remain as she was placed till orders to move were given to her. +Dalrymple would occasionally step aside from his easel to look at her +in some altered light, and on such occasions she would simply hold her +hammer somewhat more tightly than before. When, therefore, Mrs Van +Siever entered the room Clara was still slaying Sisera, in spite of +the artist's speech. The speech, indeed, and her mother both seemed +to come to her at the same time. The old woman stood for a moment +holding the open door in her hand. "You fool!" she said, "what are +you doing there, dressed up in that way like a guy?" Then Clara got +up from her feet and stood before her mother in Jael's dress and +Jael's turban. Dalrymple thought that the dress and turban did not +become her badly. Mrs Van Siever apparently thought otherwise. "Will +you have the goodness to tell me, miss, why you are dressed up after +that Mad Bess of Bedlam fashion?"</p> + +<p>The reader will no doubt bear in mind that Clara had other words of +which to think besides those which were addressed to her by her +mother. Dalrymple had asked her to be his wife in the plainest +possible language, and she thought that the very plainness of the +language became him well. The very taking off of his apron, almost as +he said the words, though to himself the action had been so +distressing as almost to overcome his purpose, had in it something to +her of direct simple determination which pleased her. When he had +spoken of having had a nail driven by her right through his heart, +she had not been in the least gratified; but the taking off of the +apron, and the putting down of the palette, and the downright way in +which he had called her Clara Van Siever,—attempting to be neither +sentimental with Clara, nor polite with Miss Van Siever,—did please +her. She had often said to herself that she would never give a plain +answer to a man who did not ask her a plain question;—to a man who, +in asking this question, did not say plainly to her, "Clara Van +Siever, will you become Mrs Jones?"—or Mrs Smith, or Mrs Tomkins, as +the case might be. Now Conway Dalrymple had asked her to become Mrs +Dalrymple very much after this fashion. In spite of the apparition of +her mother, all this had passed through her mind. Not the less, +however, was she obliged to answer her mother, before she could give +any reply to the other questioner. In the meantime Mrs Dobbs +Broughton had untucked her feet.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," said Clara, "who ever expected to see you here?"</p> + +<p>"I daresay nobody did," said Mrs Van Siever; "but here I am, +nevertheless."</p> + +<p>"Madam," said Mrs Dobbs Broughton, "you might at any rate have gone +through the ceremony of having yourself announced by the servant."</p> + +<p>"Madam," said the old woman, attempting to mimic the tone of the +other, "I thought that on such a very particular occasion as this I +might be allowed to announce myself. You tomfool, you, why don't you +take that turban off?" Then Clara, with slow and graceful motion, +unwound the turban. If Dalrymple really meant what he had said and +would stick to it, she need not mind being called a tomfool by her +mother.</p> + +<p>"Conway, I am afraid that our last sitting is disturbed," said Mrs +Broughton, with her little laugh.</p> + +<p>"Conway's last sitting certainly is disturbed," said Mrs Van Siever, +and then she mimicked the laugh. "And you'll all be disturbed,—I can +tell you that. What an ass you must be to go on with this kind of +thing, after what I said to you yesterday! Do you know that he got +beastly drunk in the City last night, and that he is drunk now, while +you are going on with your tomfooleries?" Upon hearing this, Mrs +Dobbs Broughton fainted into Dalrymple's arms.</p> + +<p>Hitherto the artist had not said a word, and had hardly known what +part in it would best become him now to play. If he intended to marry +Clara,—and he certainly did intend to marry her if she would have +him,—it might be as well not to quarrel with Mrs Van Siever. At any +rate there was nothing in Mrs Van Siever's intrusion, disagreeable as +it was, which need make him take up his sword to do battle with her. +But now, as he held Mrs Broughton in his arms, and as the horrid +words which the old woman had spoken rung in his ears, he could not +refrain himself form uttering reproach. "You ought not to have told +her in this way, before other people, even if it be true," said +Conway.</p> + +<p>"Leave me to be my own judge of what I ought to do, if you please, +sir. If she had any feeling at all, what I told her yesterday would +have kept her from all this. But some people have no feeling, and +will go on being tomfools though the house is on fire." As these +words were spoken, Mrs Broughton fainted more persistently than +ever,—so that Dalrymple was convinced that whether she felt or not, +at any rate she heard. He had now dragged her across the room, and +laid her upon the sofa, and Clara had come to her assistance. "I +daresay you think me very hard because I speak plainly, but there are +things much harder than plain speaking. How much do you expect to be +paid, sir, for this picture of my girl?"</p> + +<p>"I do not expect to be paid for it at all," said Dalrymple.</p> + +<p>"And who is it to belong to?"</p> + +<p>"It belongs to me at present."</p> + +<p>"Then, sir, it mustn't belong to you any longer. It won't do for you +to have a picture of my girl to hang up in your painting-room for all +your friends to come and make their jokes about, nor yet to make a +show of it in any of your exhibitions. My daughter has been a fool, +and I can't help it. If you'll tell me what's the cost, I'll pay you; +then I'll have the picture home, and I'll treat it as it deserves."</p> + +<p>Dalrymple thought for a moment about his picture and about Mrs Van +Siever. What had he better do? He wanted to behave well, and he felt +that the old woman had something of justice on her side. "Madam," he +said, "I will not sell this picture; but it shall be destroyed, if +you wish it."</p> + +<p>"I certainly do wish it, but I won't trust to you. If it's not sent +to my house at once you'll hear from me through my lawyers."</p> + +<p>Then Dalrymple deliberately opened his penknife and slit the canvas +across, through the middle of the picture each way. Clara, as she saw +him do it, felt that in truth that she loved him. "There, Mrs Van +Siever," he said; "now you can take the bits home with you in your +basket if you wish it." At this moment, as the rent canvas fell and +fluttered upon the stretcher, there came a loud voice of lamentation +from the sofa, a groan of despair and a shriek of wrath. "Very fine +indeed," said Mrs Van Siever. "When ladies faint they always ought to +have their eyes about them. I see that Mrs Broughton understands +that."</p> + +<p>"Take her away, Conway—for God's sake take her away," said Mrs +Broughton.</p> + +<p>"I shall take myself away very shortly," said Mrs Van Siever, "so you +needn't trouble Mr Conway about that. Not but that I thought the +gentleman's name was Mr something else."</p> + +<p>"My name is Conway Dalrymple," said the artist.</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose you must be her brother, or her cousin, or something +of that sort?" said Mrs Van Siever.</p> + +<p>"Take her away," screamed Mrs Dobbs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment, madam. As you've chopped up your handiwork there, Mr +Conway Dalrymple, and as I suppose my daughter has been more to blame +than anybody else<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"She has not been to blame at all," said Dalrymple.</p> + +<p>"That's my affair and not yours," said Mrs Van Siever, very sharply. +"But as you've been at all this trouble, and have now chopped it up, +I don't mind paying you for your time and paints; only I shall be +glad to know how much it will come to?"</p> + +<p>"There will be nothing to pay, Mrs Van Siever."</p> + +<p>"How long has he been at it, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, indeed you had better not say anything about paying him."</p> + +<p>"I shall say whatever I please, miss. Will ten pounds do it, sir?"</p> + +<p>"If you choose to buy the picture, the price will be seven hundred +and fifty," said Dalrymple with a smile, pointing to the fragments.</p> + +<p>"Seven hundred and fifty pounds?" said the old woman.</p> + +<p>"But I strongly advise you not to make the purchase," said Dalrymple.</p> + +<p>"Seven hundred and fifty pounds! I certainly shall not give you seven +hundred and fifty pounds."</p> + +<p>"I certainly think you could invest your money better, Mrs Van +Siever. But if the thing is to be sold at all, that is my price. I've +thought that there was some justice in your demand that it should be +destroyed,—and therefore I have destroyed it."</p> + +<p>Mrs Van Siever had been standing on the same spot ever since she had +entered the room, and now she turned round to leave the room.</p> + +<p>"If you have any demand to make, I beg that you will send in your +account for work done to Mr Musselboro. He is my man of business. +Clara, are you ready to come home? The cab is waiting at the +door,—at sixpence the quarter of an hour, if you will be pleased to +remember."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Broughton," said Clara, thoughtful of her raiment, and +remembering that it might not be well that she should return home, +even in a cab, dressed as Jael; "if you will allow me, I will go into +your room for a minute or two."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Clara," said Mrs Broughton, preparing to accompany her.</p> + +<p>"But before you go, Mrs Broughton," said Mrs Van Siever, "it may be +as well that I should tell you that my daughter is going to become +the wife of Mr Musselboro. It may simplify matters that you should +know this." And Mrs Van Siever, as she spoke, looked hard at Conway +Dalrymple.</p> + +<p>"Mamma!" exclaimed Clara.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Mrs Van Siever, "you had better change your dress and +come away with me."</p> + +<p>"Not till I have protested against what you have said, mamma."</p> + +<p>"You had better leave your protesting alone, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Broughton," said Clara, "I must beg you to understand that mamma +has not the slightest right in the world to tell you what she just +now said about me. Nothing on earth would induce me to become the +wife of Mr Broughton's partner."</p> + +<p>There was something which made Clara unwilling even to name the man +whom her mother had publicly proposed as her future husband.</p> + +<p>"He isn't Mr Broughton's partner," said Mrs Van Siever. "Mr Broughton +has not got a partner. Mr Musselboro is the head of the firm. And as +to your marrying him, of course, I can't make you."</p> + +<p>"No, mamma, you cannot."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Broughton understands that, no doubt;—and so, probably, does Mr +Dalrymple. I can only tell them what are my ideas. If you choose to +marry the sweep at the crossing, I can't help it. Only I don't see +what good you would do the sweep, when he would have to sweep for +himself and you too. At any rate, I suppose you mean to go home with +me now?" Then Mrs Broughton and Clara left the room, and Mrs Van +Siever was left with Conway Dalrymple. "Mr Dalrymple," said Mrs Van +Siever, "do not deceive yourself. What I told you just now will +certainly come to pass."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that that must depend on the young lady," said +Dalrymple.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what certainly will not depend on the young lady," +said Mrs Van Siever, "and that is whether the man who marries her +will have more with her than the clothes she stands up in. You will +understand that argument, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not quite sure that I do," said Dalrymple.</p> + +<p>"Then you'd better try to understand it. Good-morning, sir. I'm sorry +you've had to slit your picture." Then she curtseyed low, and walked +out on to the landing-place. "Clara," she cried, "I'm waiting for +you,—sixpence a quarter of an hour,—remember that." In a minute or +two Clara came out to her, and then Mrs Van Siever and Miss Van +Siever took their departure.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Conway, what am I to do? what am I to do?" said Mrs Dobbs +Broughton. Dalrymple stood perplexed for a few minutes, and would not +tell her what she was to do. She was in such a position that it was +very hard to tell her what she was to do. "Do you believe, Conway, +that he is really ruined?"</p> + +<p>"What am I to say? How am I to know?"</p> + +<p>"I see that you believe it," said the wretched woman.</p> + +<p>"I cannot but believe that there is something of truth in what this +woman says. Why else should she come here with such a story?" Then +there was a pause, during which Mrs Broughton was burying her face on +the arm of the sofa. "I'll tell you what I'll do," continued he. +"I'll go into the City, and make inquiry. It can hardly be but what I +shall learn the truth there."</p> + +<p>Then there was another pause, at the end of which Mrs Broughton got +up from the sofa.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," said she;—"what do you mean to do about that girl?"</p> + +<p>"You heard me ask her to be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"I did! I did!"</p> + +<p>"Is it not what you intended?"</p> + +<p>"Do not ask me. My mind is bewildered. My brain is on fire! Oh, +Conway!"</p> + +<p>"Shall I go into the City as I proposed?" said Dalrymple, who felt +that he might at any rate improve the position of circumstances by +leaving the house.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—yes; go into the City! Go anywhere. Go. But stay! Oh, Conway!" +There was a sudden change in her voice as she spoke. "Hark,—there he +is, as sure as life." Then Conway listened, and heard a footstep on +the stairs, as to which he had then but little doubt that it was the +footstep of Dobbs Broughton. "Oh heavens! He is tipsy!" exclaimed Mrs +Broughton; "and what shall we do?" Then Dalrymple took her hand and +pressed it, and left the room, so that he might meet the husband on +the stairs. In the one moment that he had for reflection he thought +it was better that there should be no concealment.</p> + + +<p><a name="c61" id="c61"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXI</h3> +<h3>"It's Dogged as Does It"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>In accordance with the resolution to which the clerical commission +had come on the first day of their sitting, Dr Tempest wrote the +following letter to Mr Crawley:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Rectory, Silverbridge</span>,<br /> +April, 9, 186––</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Sir</span>,—</p> + +<p>I have been given to understand that you have been +informed that the Bishop of Barchester has appointed a +commission of clergymen of the diocese to make inquiry +respecting certain accusations which, to the great regret +of us all, have been made against you, in respect to a +cheque for twenty pounds which was passed by you to a +tradesman in the town. The clergymen appointed to form +this commission are Mr Oriel, the rector of Greshamsbury, +Mr Robarts, the vicar of Framley, Mr Quiverful, the warden +of Hiram's Hospital at Barchester, Mr Thumble, a clergyman +established in that city, and myself. We held our first +meeting on last Monday, and I now write to you in +compliance with a resolution to which we then came. Before +taking any other steps we thought it best to ask you to +attend us here on next Monday, at two o'clock, and I beg +that you will accept this letter as an invitation to that +effect.</p> + +<p>We are, of course, aware that you are about to stand your +trial at the next assizes for the offence in question. I +beg you to understand that I do not express any opinion as +to your guilt. But I think it right to point out to you +that in the event of a jury finding an adverse verdict, +the bishop will be placed in great difficulty unless he +were fortified with the opinion of a commission formed +from your fellow clerical labourers in the diocese. Should +such adverse verdict unfortunately be given, the bishop +would hardly be justified in allowing a clergyman placed +as you then would be placed, to return to his cure after +the expiration of such punishment as the judge might +award, without a further decision from an ecclesiastical +court. This decision he could only obtain by proceeding +against you under the Act in reference to clerical +offences, which empowers him as bishop of the diocese to +bring you before the Court of Arches,—unless you would +think well to submit yourself entirely to his judgment. +You will, I think, understand what I mean. The judge at +assizes might find it his duty to imprison a clergyman for +a month,—regarding that clergyman simply as he would +regard any other person found guilty by a jury and thus +made subject to his judgment,—and might do this for an +offence which the ecclesiastical judge would find himself +obliged to visit with the severer sentence of prolonged +suspension, or even with deprivation.</p> + +<p>We are, however, clearly of opinion that should the jury +find themselves able to acquit you, no further action +whatsoever should be taken. In such case we think that the +bishop may regard your innocence to be fully established, +and in such case we shall recommend his lordship to look +upon the matter as altogether at an end. I can assure you +that in such case I shall so regard it myself.</p> + +<p>You will perceive that, as a consequence of this +resolution, to which we have already come, we are not +minded to make any inquiries ourselves into the +circumstances of your alleged guilt, till the verdict of +the jury shall be given. If you are acquitted, our course +will be clear. But should you be convicted, we must in +that case advise the bishop to take the proceedings to +which I have alluded, or to abstain from taking them. We +wish to ask you whether, now that our opinion has been +conveyed to you, you will be willing to submit to the +bishop's decision, in the event of an adverse verdict +being given by the jury; and we think that it will be +better for us all that you should meet us here at the hour +I have named on Monday next, the 15th instant. It is not +our intention to make any report to the bishop until the +trial shall be over.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">I have the honour to +be,</span><br /> +<span class="ind10">My dear sir,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12">Your obedient servant,</span></p> +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Mortimer +Tempest</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">The Rev Josiah Crawley,<br /> +Hogglestock.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>In the same envelope Dr Tempest sent a short private note, in which +he said that he should be very happy to see Mr Crawley at half-past +one on the Monday named, that luncheon would be ready at that hour, +and that, as Mr Crawley's attendance was required on public grounds, +he would take care that a carriage was provided for the day.</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley received this letter in his wife's presence, and read it +in silence. Mrs Crawley saw that he paid close attention to it, and +was sure,—she felt that she was sure,—that it referred in some way +to the terrible subject of the cheque for twenty pounds. Indeed, +everything that came into the house, almost every word spoken there, +and every thought that came into the breast of any of the family, had +more or less reference to the coming trial. How could it be +otherwise? There was ruin coming on them all,—ruin and complete +disgrace coming on father, mother, and children! To have been accused +itself was very bad; but now it seemed to be the opinion of every one +that the verdict must be against the man. Mrs Crawley herself, who +was perfectly sure of her husband's innocence before God, believed +that the jury would find him guilty,—and believed also that he had +become possessed of the money in some manner that would have been +dishonest, had he not been so different from other people as to be +entitled to be considered innocent where another man would have been +plainly guilty. She was full of the cheque for twenty pounds, and of +its results. When, therefore, he had read the letter through a second +time, and even then had spoken no word about it, of course she could +not refrain from questioning him. "My love," she said, "what is the +letter?"</p> + +<p>"It is on business," he answered.</p> + +<p>She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. "May I not know +the business?"</p> + +<p>"No," said he; "not at present."</p> + +<p>"Is it from the bishop?"</p> + +<p>"Have I not answered you? Have I not given you to understand that, +for a while at least, I would prefer to keep the contents of this +epistle to myself?" Then he looked at her very sternly, and +afterwards turned his eyes upon the fireplace and gazed at the fire, +as though he were striving to read there something of his future +fate. She did not much regard the severity of his speech. That, too, +like the taking of the cheque itself, was to be forgiven him, because +he was different from other men. His black mood had come upon him, +and everything was to be forgiven him now. He was as a child when +cutting his teeth. Let the poor wayward sufferer be ever so petulant, +the mother simply pities and loves him, and is never angry. "I beg +your pardon, Josiah," she said, "but I thought it would comfort you +to speak to me about it."</p> + +<p>"It will not comfort me," he said. "Nothing comforts me. Nothing can +comfort me. Jane, give me my hat and my stick." His daughter brought +to him his hat and stick, and without another word he went out and +left them.</p> + +<p>As a matter of course he turned his steps towards Hoggle End. When he +desired to be long absent from the house, he always went among the +brickmakers. His wife, as she stood at the window and watched the +direction in which he went, knew that he might be away for hours. The +only friends out of his own family with whom he ever spoke freely +were some of those rough parishioners. But he was not thinking of the +brickmakers when he started. He was simply desirous of reading again +Dr Tempest's letter, and of considering it, in some spot where no eye +could see him. He walked away with long steps, regarding +nothing,—neither the ruts in the dirty lane, nor the young primroses +which were fast showing themselves on the banks, nor the gathering +clouds which might have told him of the coming rain. He went on for a +couple of miles, till he had nearly reached the outskirts of the +colony of Hoggle End, and then he sat himself down upon a gate. He +had not been there a minute before a few slow drops began to fall, +but he was altogether too much wrapped up in his thoughts to regard +the rain. What answer should he make to this letter from the man at +Silverbridge?</p> + +<p>The position of his own mind in reference to his own guilt or his own +innocence was very singular. It was simply the truth that he did not +know how the cheque had come to him. He did know that he had +blundered about it most egregiously, especially when he had averred +that this cheque for twenty pounds had been identical with a cheque +for another sum which had been given to him by Mr Soames. He had +blundered since, in saying that the dean had given it to him. There +could be no doubt as to this, for the dean had denied that he had +done so. And he had come to think it very possible that he had indeed +picked the cheque up, and had afterwards used it, having deposited it +by some strange accident,—not knowing then what he was doing, or +what was the nature of the bit of paper in his hand,—with the notes +which he had accepted from the dean with so much reluctance, with +such an agony of spirit. In all these thoughts of his own about his +own doings, and his own position, he almost admitted to himself his +own insanity, his inability to manage his own affairs with that +degree of rational sequence which is taken for granted as belonging +to a man when he is made subject to criminal laws. As he puzzled his +brain in his efforts to create a memory as to the cheque, and +succeeded in bringing to his mind a recollection that he had once +known something about the cheque,—that the cheque had at one time +been the subject of a thought and of a resolution,—he admitted to +himself that in accordance with all law and all reason he must be +regarded as a thief. He had taken and used and spent that which he +ought to have known was not his own;—which he would have known not +to be his own but for some terrible incapacity with which God had +afflicted him. What then must be the result? His mind was clear +enough about this. If the jury could see everything and know +everything,—as he would wish that they should do; and if this +bishop's commission, and the bishop himself, and the Court of Arches +with its judge, could see and know everything; and if so seeing and +so knowing they could act with clear honesty and perfect +wisdom,—what would they do? They would declare of him that he was +not a thief, only because he was so muddy-minded, so addle-pated as +not to know the difference between meum and tuum! There could be no +other end to it, let all the lawyers and all the clergymen in England +put their wits to it. Thought he knew himself to be muddy-minded and +addle-pated, he could see that. And could any one say of such a man +that he was fit to be the acting clergyman of a parish,—to have +freehold possession in a parish as curer of men's souls! The bishop +was in the right of it, let him be ten times as mean a fellow as he +was.</p> + +<p>And yet as he sat there on the gate, while the rain came down heavily +upon him, even when admitting the justice of the bishop, and the +truth of the verdict which the jury would no doubt give, and the +propriety of the action which that cold, reasonable, prosperous man +at Silverbridge would take, he pitied himself with a tenderness of +commiseration which knew no bounds. As for those belonging to him, +his wife and children, his pity for them was of a different kind. He +would have suffered any increase of suffering, could he by such agony +have released them. Dearly as he loved them, he would have severed +himself from them, had it been possible. Terrible thoughts as to +their fate had come into his mind in the worst moments of his +moodiness,—thoughts which he had had sufficient strength and +manliness to put away from him with a strong hand, lest they should +drive him to crime indeed; and these had come from the great pity +which he had felt for them. But the commiseration which he had felt +for himself had been different from this, and had mostly visited him +at times when that other pity was for the moment in abeyance. What +though he had taken the cheque, and spent the money though it was not +his? He might be guilty before the law, but he was not guilty before +God. There had never been a thought of theft in his mind, or a desire +to steal in his heart. He knew that well enough. No jury could make +him guilty of theft before God. And what though this mixture of guilt +and innocence had come from madness,—from madness which these courts +must recognise if they chose to find him innocent of the crime? In +spite of his aberrations of intellect, if there were any such, his +ministrations in his parish were good. Had he not preached fervently +and well,—preaching the true gospel? Had he not been very diligent +among his people, striving with all his might to lessen the ignorance +of the ignorant, and to gild with godliness the learning of the +instructed? Had he not been patient, enduring, instant, and in all +things amenable to the laws and regulations laid down by the Church +for his guidance in his duties as a parish clergyman? Who could point +out in what he had been astray, or where he had gone amiss? But for +the work which he had done with so much zeal the Church which he +served had paid him so miserable a pittance that, though life and +soul had been kept together, the reason, or a fragment of the reason, +had at moments escaped from his keeping in the scramble. Hence it was +that this terrible calamity had fallen upon him! Who had been tried +as he had been tried, and had gone through such fire with less loss +of intellectual power than he had done? He was still a scholar, +though no brother scholar ever came near him, and would make Greek +iambics as he walked along the lanes. His memory was stored with +poetry, though no book ever came to his hands, except those shorn and +tattered volumes which lay upon his table. Old problems in +trigonometry were the pleasing relaxations of his mind, and +complications of figures were a delight to him. There was not one of +those prosperous clergymen around him, and who scorned him, whom he +could not have instructed in Hebrew. It was always a gratification to +him to remember that his old friend the dean was weak in his Hebrew. +He, with these acquirements, with these fitnesses, had been thrust +down to the ground,—to the very granite,—and because in that harsh +heartless thrusting his intellect had for moments wavered as to +common things, cleaving still to all its grander, nobler possessions, +he was now to be rent in pieces and scattered to the winds, as being +altogether vile, worthless, and worse than worthless. It was thus +that he thought of himself, pitying himself, as he sat upon the gate, +while the rain fell ruthlessly on his shoulders.</p> + +<p>He pitied himself with a commiseration that was sickly in spite of +its truth. It was the fault of the man that he was imbued too +strongly with self-consciousness. He could do a great thing or two. +He could keep up his courage in positions which would wash all the +courage out of most men. He could tell the truth though truth should +ruin him. He could sacrifice all that he had to duty. He could do +justice though the heaven should fall. But he could not forget to pay +a tribute to himself for the greatness of his own actions; nor, when +accepting with an effort of meekness the small payment made by the +world to him, in return for his great works, could he forget the +great payments made to others for small work. It was not sufficient +for him to remember that he knew Hebrew, but he must remember also +that the dean did not.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, as he sat there under the rain, he made up his mind +with a clearness that certainly had in it nothing of that muddiness +of mind of which he had often accused himself. Indeed, the intellect +of this man was essentially clear. It was simply his memory that +would play him tricks,—his memory as to things which at the moment +were not important to him. The fact that the dean had given him money +was very important, and he remembered it well. But the amount of the +money, and its form, at a moment in which he had flattered himself +that he might have strength to leave it unused, had not been +important to him. Now, he resolved that he would go to Dr Tempest, +and that he would tell Dr Tempest that there was no occasion for any +further inquiry. He would submit to the bishop, let the bishop's +decision be what it might. Things were different since the day on +which he had refused Mr Thumble admission to his pulpit. At that time +people believed him to be innocent, and he so believed of himself. +Now, people believed him to be guilty, and it could not be right that +a man held in such slight esteem could exercise the functions of a +parish priest, let his own opinion of himself be what it might. He +would submit himself, and go anywhere,—to the galleys or the +workhouse, if they wished it. As for his wife and children, they +would, he said to himself, be better without him than with him. The +world would never be so hard to a woman or to children as it had been +to him.</p> + +<p>He was sitting saturated with rain,—saturated also with +thinking,—and quite unobservant of anything around him, when he was +accosted by an old man from Hoggle End, with whom he was well +acquainted. "Thee be wat, Master Crawley," said the old man.</p> + +<p>"Wet!" said Crawley, recalled suddenly back to the realities of life. +"Well,—yes. I am wet. That's because it's raining."</p> + +<p>"Thee be teeming o' wat. Hadn't thee better go whome?"</p> + +<p>"And are you not wet also," said Mr Crawley, looking at the old man, +who had been at work in the brickfield, and who was soaked with mire, +and from whom there seemed to come a steam of muddy mist.</p> + +<p>"Is it me, yer reverence? I'm wat in course. The loikes of us is +always wat,—that is barring the insides of us. It comes to us +natural to have the rheumatics. How is one of us to help hisself +against having on 'em? But there ain't no call for the loikes of you +to have the rheumatics."</p> + +<p>"My friend," said Crawley, who was now standing on the road,—and as +he spoke he put out his arm and took the brickmaker by the hand, +"there is a worse complaint than rheumatism,—there is, indeed."</p> + +<p>"There's what they calls the collerer," said Giles Hoggett, looking +up into Mr Crawley's face. "That ain't a-got hold of yer?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, and worse than the cholera. A man is killed all over when he is +struck in his pride—and yet he lives."</p> + +<p>"Maybe that's bad enough too," said Giles, with his hand still held +by the other.</p> + +<p>"It is bad enough," said Mr Crawley, striking his breast with his +left hand. "It is bad enough."</p> + +<p>"Tell 'ee what, Master Crawley;—and yer reverence mustn't think as I +means to be preaching; there ain't nowt a man can't bear if he'll +only be dogged. You go whome, Master Crawley, and think o' that, and +maybe it'll do ye a good yet. It's dogged as does it. It ain't +thinking about it." Then Giles Hoggett withdrew his hand from the +clergyman's, and walked away towards his home at Hoggle End. Mr +Crawley also turned away homewards, and as he made his way through +the lanes, he repeated to himself Giles Hoggett's words. "It's dogged +as does it. It's not thinking about it."</p> + +<p>He did not say a word to his wife on that afternoon about Dr Tempest; +and she was so much taken up with his outward condition when he +returned, as almost to have forgotten the letter. He allowed himself, +but barely allowed himself, to be made dry, and then for the +remainder of the day applied himself to learn the lesson which +Hoggett had endeavoured to teach him. But the learning of it was not +easy, and hardly became more easy when he had worked the problem out +in his own mind, and discovered that the brickmaker's doggedness +simply meant self-abnegation;—that a man should force himself to +endure anything that might be sent upon him, not only without outward +grumbling, but also without grumbling inwardly.</p> + +<p>Early on the next morning, he told his wife that he was going into +Silverbridge. "It is that letter,—the letter which I got yesterday +that calls me," he said. And then he handed her the letter as to +which he had refused to speak to her on the preceding day.</p> + +<p>"But this speaks of your going next Monday, Josiah," said Mrs +Crawley.</p> + +<p>"I find it more suitable that I should go to-day," said he. "Some +duty I do owe in this matter, both to the bishop, and to Dr Tempest, +who, after a fashion, is, as regards my present business, the +bishop's representative. But I do not perceive that I owe it as a +duty to either to obey implicitly their injunctions, and I will not +submit myself to the cross-questionings of the man Thumble. As I am +purposed at present I shall express my willingness to give up the +parish."</p> + +<p>"Give up the parish altogether?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, altogether." As he spoke he clasped both his hands together, +and having held them for a moment on high, allowed them to fall thus +clasped before him. "I cannot give it up in part; I cannot abandon +the duties and reserve the honorarium. Nor would I if I could."</p> + +<p>"I did not mean that, Josiah. But pray think of it before you speak."</p> + +<p>"I have thought of it, and I will think of it. Farewell, my dear." +Then he came up to her and kissed her, and started on his journey on +foot to Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>It was about noon when he reached Silverbridge, and he was told that +Doctor Tempest was at home. The servant asked him for a card. "I have +no card," said Mr Crawley, "but I will write my name for your behoof +if your master's hospitality will allow me paper and pencil." The +name was written, and as Crawley waited in the drawing-room he spent +his time in hating Dr Tempest because the door had been opened by a +man-servant dressed in black. Had the man been in livery he would +have hated Dr Tempest all the same. And he would have hated him a +little had the door been opened even by a smart maid.</p> + +<p>"Your letter came to hand yesterday morning, Dr Tempest," said Mr +Crawley, still standing, though the doctor had pointed to a chair for +him after shaking hands with him; "and having given yesterday to the +consideration of it, with what judgment I have been able to exercise, +I have felt it to be incumbent upon me to wait upon you without +further delay, as by doing so I may perhaps assist your views and +save labour to those gentlemen who are joined with you in this +commission of which you have spoken. To some of them it may possibly +be troublesome that they should be brought here on next Monday."</p> + +<p>Dr Tempest had been looking at him during this speech, and could see +by his shoes and trousers that he had walked from Hogglestock to +Silverbridge. "Mr Crawley, will you not sit down?" said he, and then +he rang his bell. Mr Crawley sat down, not on the chair indicated, +but on one further removed and at the other side of the table. When +the servant came,—the objectionable butler in black clothes that +were so much smarter than Mr Crawley's own,—his master's orders were +communicated without any audible word, and the man returned with a +decanter and wine-glasses.</p> + +<p>"After your walk, Mr Crawley," said Dr Tempest, getting up from his +seat to pour out the wine.</p> + +<p>"None, I thank you."</p> + +<p>"Pray let me persuade you. I know the length of the miles so well."</p> + +<p>"I will take none if you please, sir," said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr Crawley," said Dr Tempest, "do let me speak to you as a +friend. You have walked eight miles, and are going to talk to me on a +subject which is of vital importance to yourself. I won't discuss it +unless you'll take a glass of wine and a biscuit."</p> + +<p>"Dr Tempest!"</p> + +<p>"I'm quite in earnest. I won't. If you do as I ask, you shall talk to +me till dinner-time, if you like. There. Now you may begin."</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley did eat the biscuit and did drink the wine, and as he did +so, he acknowledged to himself that Dr Tempest was right. He felt +that the wine had made him stronger to speak. "I hardly know why you +have preferred to-day to next Monday," said Dr Tempest; "but if +anything can be done by your presence here to-day, your time shall +not be thrown away."</p> + +<p>"I have preferred to-day to Monday," said Crawley, "partly because I +would sooner talk to one man than to five."</p> + +<p>"There is something in that, certainly," said Dr Tempest.</p> + +<p>"And as I have made up my mind as to the course of action which it is +my duty to take in the matter to which your letter of the ninth of +this month refers, there can be no reason why I should postpone the +declaration of my purpose. Dr Tempest, I have determined to resign my +preferment at Hogglestock, and shall write to-day to the Dean of +Barchester, who is the patron, acquainting him of my purpose."</p> + +<p>"You mean in the event—in the event<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I mean, sir, to do this without reference to any event that is +future. The bishop, Dr Tempest, when I shall have been proved to be a +thief, shall have no trouble either in causing my suspension or my +deprivation. The name and fame of a parish clergyman should be +unstained. Mine have become foul with infamy. I will not wait to be +deprived by any court, by any bishop, or by any commission. I will +bow my head to that public opinion which has reached me, and I will +deprive myself."</p> + +<p>He had got up from his chair, and was standing as he pronounced the +final sentence against himself. Dr Tempest still remained seated in +his chair, looking at him, and for a few moments there was silence. +"You must not do that, Mr Crawley," said Dr Tempest at last.</p> + +<p>"But I shall do it."</p> + +<p>"Then the dean must not take your resignation. Speaking to you +frankly, I tell you that there is no prevailing opinion as to the +verdict which the jury may give."</p> + +<p>"My decision has nothing to do with the jury's verdict. My +decision<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Stop a moment, Mr Crawley. It is possible that you might say that +which should not be said."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to be said,—nothing which I could say, which I +would not say at the town cross if it were possible. As to this +money, I do not know whether I stole it or whether I did not."</p> + +<p>"That is just what I have thought."</p> + +<p>"It is so."</p> + +<p>"Then you did not steal it. There can be no doubt about that."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Dr Tempest. I thank you heartily for saying so much. But, +sir, you are not the jury. Nor, if you were, could you whitewash me +from the infamy which has been cast upon me. Against the opinion +expressed at the beginning of these proceedings by the bishop of the +diocese,—or rather against that expressed by his wife,—I did +venture to make a stand. Neither the opinion which came from the +palace, nor the vehicle by which it was expressed, commanded my +respect. Since that, others have spoken to whom I feel myself bound +to yield;—yourself not the least among them, Dr Tempest;—and to +them I shall yield. You may tell the Bishop of Barchester that I +shall at once resign the perpetual curacy of Hogglestock into the +hands of the Dean of Barchester, by whom I was appointed."</p> + +<p>"No, Mr Crawley; I shall not do that. I cannot control you, but +thinking you to be wrong, I shall not make that communication to the +bishop."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall do it myself."</p> + +<p>"And your wife, Mr Crawley, and your children?"</p> + +<p>At that moment Mr Crawley called to mind the advice of his friend +Giles Hoggett. "It'd dogged as does it." He certainly wanted +something very strong to sustain him in this difficulty. He found +that this reference to his wife and children required him to be +dogged in a very marked manner. "I can only trust that the wind may +be tempered to them," he said. "They will, indeed, be shorn lambs."</p> + +<p>Dr Tempest got up from his chair, and took a couple of turns about +the room before he spoke again. "Man," he said, addressing Mr Crawley +with all his energy, "if you do this thing, you will then at least be +very wicked. If the jury find a verdict in your favour you are safe, +and the chances are that the verdict will be in your favour."</p> + +<p>"I care nothing now for the verdict," said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"And you will turn your wife into the poorhouse for an idea!"</p> + +<p>"It's dogged as does it," said Mr Crawley to himself. "I have thought +of that," he said aloud. "That my wife is dear to me, and that my +children are dear, I will not deny. She was softly nurtured, Dr +Tempest, and came from a house in which want was never known. Since +she has shared my board she has had some experience of that nature. +That I should have brought her to all this is very terrible to +me,—so terrible, that I often wonder how it is that I live. But, +sir, you will agree with me, that my duty as a clergyman is above +everything. I do not dare, even for their sake, to remain in the +parish. Good morning, Dr Tempest." Dr Tempest, finding that he could +not prevail with him, bade him adieu, feeling that any service to the +Crawleys within in his power might be best done by intercession with +the bishop and with the dean.</p> + +<p>Then Mr Crawley walked back to Hogglestock, repeating to himself +Giles Hoggett's words, "It's dogged as does it."</p> + + +<p><a name="c62" id="c62"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXII</h3> +<h3>Mr Crawley's Letter to the Dean<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Mr Crawley, when he got home after his walk to Silverbridge, denied +that he was at all tired. "The man at Silverbridge whom I went to see +administered refreshment to me;—nay, he administered it with +salutary violence," he said, affecting even to laugh. "And I am bound +to speak well of him on behalf of mercies over and beyond that +exhibited by the persistent tender of some wine. That I should find +him judicious I had expected. What little I have known of him taught +me so to think of him. But I found with him also a softness of heart +for which I had not looked."</p> + +<p>"And you will not give up the living, Josiah?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly I will. A duty, when it is clear before a man, should +never be made less so by any tenderness in others." He was still +thinking of Giles Hoggett. "It's dogged as does it." The poor woman +could not answer him. She knew well that it was vain to argue with +him. She could only hope that in the event of his being acquitted at +the trial, the dean, whose friendship she did not doubt, might +re-endow him with the small benefice which was their only source of +bread.</p> + +<p>On the following morning there came by post a short note from Dr +Tempest. "My dear Mr Crawley," the note ran,<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>I implore you, if there be yet time, to do nothing rashly. +And even although you should have written to the bishop or +to the dean, your letters need have no effect, if you will +allow me to make them inoperative. Permit me to say that I +am a man much older than you, and one who has mixed much +both with clergymen and with the world at large. I tell +you with absolute confidence, that it is not your duty in +your present position to give up your living. Should your +conduct ever be called in question on this matter you will +be at perfect liberty to say that you were guided by my +advice. You should take no step till after the trial. +Then, if the verdict be against you, you should submit to +the bishop's judgment. If the verdict be in your favour, +the bishop's interference will be over.</p> + +<p>And you must remember that if it is not your duty as a +clergyman to give up your living, you can have no right, +seeing that you have a wife and family, to throw it away +as an indulgence to your pride. Consult any other friend +you please;—Mr Robarts, or the dean himself. I am quite +sure that any friend who knows as many of the circumstances +as I know will advise you to hold the living, at any rate +till after the trial. You can refer any such friend to me.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Believe me, to be yours very truly,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Mortimer +Tempest</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Mr Crawley walked about again with this letter in his pocket, but on +this occasion he did not go in the direction of Hoggle End. From +Hoggle End he could hardly hope to pick up further lessons of wisdom. +What could any Giles Hoggett say to him beyond what he had said to +him already? If he were to read the doctor's letter to Hoggett, and +to succeed in making Hoggett understand it, Hoggett could only +caution him to be dogged. But it seemed to him that Hoggett and his +new friend at Silverbridge did not agree in their doctrines, and it +might be well that he should endeavour to find out which of them had +most of justice on his side. He was quite sure that Hoggett would +advise him to adhere to his project of giving up the living,—if only +Hoggett could be made to understand the circumstances.</p> + +<p>He had written, but had not as yet sent away his letter to the dean.</p> + +<p>His letter to the bishop would be but a note, and he had postponed +the writing of that till the other should be copied and made +complete.</p> + +<p>He had sat up late into the night composing and altering his letter +to his old friend, and now that the composition was finished he was +loth to throw it away. Early in this morning, before the postman had +brought to him Dr Tempest's urgent remonstrance, he had shown to his +wife the draft of his letter to the dean. "I cannot say that it is +not true," she had said.</p> + +<p>"It is certainly true."</p> + +<p>"But I wish, dear, you would not send it. Why should you take any +step till the trial be over?"</p> + +<p>"I shall assuredly send it," he had replied. "If you will peruse it +again, you will see that the epistle would be futile were it kept +till I shall have been proved to be a thief."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Josiah, such words kill me."</p> + +<p>"They are not pleasant, but it will be well that you should become +used to them. As for the letter, I have taken some trouble to express +myself with perspicuity, and I trust that I may have succeeded." At +that time Hoggett was altogether in the ascendant; but now, as he +started on his walk, his mind was somewhat perturbed by the contrary +advice of one, who after all, might be as wise as Hoggett. There +would be nothing dogged in the conduct recommended to him by Dr +Tempest. Were he to follow the doctor's advice, he would be trimming +his sails, so as to catch any slant of a breeze that might be +favourable to him. There could be no doggedness in a character that +would submit to such trimming.</p> + +<p>The postman came to Hogglestock but once a day, so that he could not +despatch his letter till the next morning,—unless, indeed, he chose +to send it a distance of four miles to the nearest post-office. As +there was nothing to justify this, there was another night for the +copying of his letter,—should he at last determine to send it. He +had declared to Dr Tempest that he would send it. He had sworn to his +wife that it should go. He had taken much trouble with it. He +believed in Hoggett. But, nevertheless, this incumbency of +Hogglestock was his all in the world. It might be that he could still +hold it, and have bread at least for his wife to eat. Dr Tempest had +told him that he would be probably acquitted. Dr Tempest knew as much +of all the circumstances as he did himself, and had told him that he +was not guilty. After all, Dr Tempest knew more about it than Hoggett +knew.</p> + +<p>If he resigned the living, what would become of him,—of him,—of him +and of his wife? Whither would they first go when they turned their +back upon the door inside which there had at any rate been shelter +for them for so many years? He calculated everything that he had, and +found that at the end of April, even when he should have received his +rent-charge, there would not be five pounds in hand among them. As +for his furniture, he still owed enough to make it impossible that he +should get anything out of that. And these thoughts all had reference +to his position if he should be acquitted. What would become of his +wife if he should be convicted? And as for himself, whither should he +go when he came out of prison?</p> + +<p>He had completely realised the idea that Hoggett's counsel was +opposed to that given to him by Dr Tempest; but then it might +certainly be the case that Hoggett had not known all the facts. A man +should, no doubt, be dogged when the evils of life are insuperable; +but need he be so when the evils can be overcome? Would not Hoggett +himself undergo any treatment which he believed to be specific for +rheumatism? Yes; Hoggett would undergo any treatment that was not in +itself opposed to his duty. The best treatment for rheumatism might +be to stay away from the brick-field on a rainy day; but if so, there +would be no money to keep the pot boiling, and Hoggett would +certainly go to the brick-field, rheumatism and all, as long as his +limbs would carry him there. Yes; he would send his letter. It was +his duty, and he would do it. Men looked askance at him, and pointed +at him as a thief. He would send the letter, in spite of Dr Tempest. +Let justice be done, though the heaven may fall.</p> + +<p>He had heard of Lady Lufton's offer to his wife. The offers of the Lady +Luftons of the world had been sorely distressing to his spirit, since +it had first come to pass that such offers had reached him in +consequence of his poverty. But now there was something almost of +relief to him in the thought that the Lady Luftons would, after some +fashion, save his wife and children from starvation;—would save his +wife from the poorhouse, and enable his children to have a start in +the world. For one of his children a brilliant marriage might be +provided,—if only he himself were out of the way. How could he take +himself out of the way? It had been whispered to him that he might be +imprisoned for two months,—or for two years. Would it not be a grand +thing if the judge would condemn him to be imprisoned for life? Was +there ever a man whose existence was so purposeless, so useless, so +deleterious, as his own? And yet he knew Hebrew well, whereas the +dean knew but very little Hebrew. He could make Greek iambics, and +doubted whether the bishop knew the difference between an iambus and +a trochee. He could disport himself with trigonometry, feeling +confident that Dr Tempest had forgotten his way over the asses' +bridge. He knew "Lycidas" by heart; and as for Thumble, he felt quite +sure that Thumble was incompetent of understanding a single allusion +in that divine poem. Nevertheless, though all this wealth of +acquirement was his, it would be better for himself, better for those +who belonged to him, better for the world at large, that he should be +put an end to. A sentence of penal servitude for life, without any +trial, would be of all things the most desirable. Then there would be +ample room for the practice of the virtue that Hoggett had taught +him.</p> + +<p>When he returned home the Hoggethan doctrine prevailed, and he +prepared to copy his letter. But before he commenced his task, he sat +down with his youngest daughter, and read,—or made her read to +him,—a passage out of a Greek poem, in which are described the +troubles and agonies of a blind giant. No giant would have been more +powerful,—only that he was blind, and could not see to avenge +himself on those who had injured him. "The same story is always +coming up," he said, stopping the girl in her reading. "We have it in +various versions, because it is so true to life.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him<br /> +Eyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">It is the same +story. Great power reduced to impotence, great glory +to misery, by the hand of Fate,—Necessity, as the Greeks called her; +the goddess that will not be shunned! At the mill with slaves! +People, when they read it, do not appreciate the horror of the +picture. Go on my dear. It may be a question whether Polyphemus had +mind enough to suffer; but, from the description of his power, I +should think that he had. 'At the mill with slaves!' Can any picture +be more dreadful than that? Go on, my dear. Of course you remember +Milton's Samson Agonistes. Agonistes indeed!" His wife was sitting +stitching at the other side of the room; but she heard his +words,—heard and understood them; and before Jane could again get +herself into the swing of the Greek verse, she was over at her +husband's side, with her arms round his neck. "My love!" she said. +"My love!"</p> + +<p>He turned to her, and smiled as he spoke to her. "These are old +thoughts with me. Polyphemus and Belisarius, and Samson and Milton, +have always been pets of mine. The mind of the strong blind creature +must be so sensible of the injury that has been done to him! The +impotency, combined with his strength, or rather the impotency with +the memory of former strength and former aspirations, is so +essentially tragic!"</p> + +<p>She looked into his eyes as he spoke, and there was something of the +flash of old days, when the world was young to them, and when he +would tell her of his hopes, and repeat to her long passages of +poetry, and would criticise for her advantage the works of old +writers. "Thank God," she said, "that you are not blind. It may yet +be all right with you."</p> + +<p>"Yes,—it may be," he said.</p> + +<p>"And you shall not be at the mill with slaves."</p> + +<p>"Or, at any rate, not eyeless in Gaza, if the Lord is good to me. +Come, Jane, we will go on." Then he took up the passage himself, and +read it on with clear, sonorous voice, every now and then explaining +some passage or expressing his own ideas upon it, as though he were +really happy with his poetry.</p> + +<p>It was late in the evening before he got out his small stock of best +letter-paper, and sat down to work at his letter. He first addressed +himself to the bishop; and what he wrote to the bishop was as +follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Hogglestock Parsonage</span>,<br /> +April 11th, 186––</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Lord Bishop</span>,</p> + +<p>I have been in communication with Dr Tempest, of +Silverbridge, from whom I have learned that your lordship +has been pleased to appoint a commission of inquiry,—of +which commission he is the chairman,—with reference to +the proceedings which it may be necessary that you should +take, as bishop of the diocese, after my forthcoming trial +at the approaching Barchester assizes. My lord, I think it +right to inform you, partly with a view to the comfort of +the gentlemen named on that commission, and partly with +the purport of giving you that information which I think +that a bishop should possess in regard to the clerical +affairs of his own diocese, that I have by this post +resigned my preferment at Hogglestock into the hands of +the Dean of Barchester, by whom it was given to me. In +these circumstances, it will, I suppose, be unnecessary +for you to continue the commission which you have set in +force; but as to that, your lordship will, of course, be +the only judge.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind4">I have the honour to be, +my Lord Bishop,</span><br /> +<span class="ind6">Your most obedient and very humble servant,</span></p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Josiah +Crawley</span>,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12">Perpetual Curate of Hogglestock.</span></p> + +<p class="noindent">The Right Reverend<br /> +<span class="ind2">The Bishop of Barchester,</span><br /> +<span class="ind2">&c, &c, &c</span><br /> +<span class="ind2">The Palace, Barchester.</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>But the letter which was of real importance,—which was intended to +say something,—was that to the dean, and that also shall be given to +the reader. Mr Crawley had been for awhile in doubt how he should +address his old friend in commencing this letter, understanding that +its tone throughout must, in a great degree, be made conformable with +its first words. He would fain, in his pride, have begun "Sir". The +question was between that and "My dear Arabin". It had once between +them always been "Dear Frank," and "Dear Joe"; but the occasions for +"Dear Frank" and "Dear Joe" between them had long been past. Crawley +would have been very angry had he now been called Joe by the dean, +and would have bitten his tongue out before he would have called the +dean Frank. His better nature, however, now prevailed, and he began +his letter, and completed it as follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Arabin</span>,</p> + +<p>Circumstances, of which you have probably heard something, +compel me to write to you, as I fear, at some length. I am +sorry that the trouble of such a letter should be forced +upon you during your holidays;—[Mr Crawley, as he wrote +this, did not forget to remind himself that he never had +any holidays] but I think you will admit, if you will bear +with me to the end, that I have no alternative.</p> + +<p>I have been accused of stealing a cheque for twenty +pounds, which cheque was drawn by my Lord Lufton on his +London bankers, and was lost out of his pocket by Mr +Soames, his lordship's agent, and was so lost, as Mr +Soames states,—not with an absolute assertion,—during a +visit which he made to my parsonage here at Hogglestock. +Of the fact that I paid the cheque to a tradesman in +Silverbridge there is no doubt. When questioned about it, +I first gave an answer which was so manifestly incorrect +that it has seemed odd to me that I should not have had +credit for a mistake from those who must have seen that +detection was so evident. The blunder was undoubtedly +stupid, and it now bears heavy on me. I then, as I have +learned, made another error,—of which I am aware that you +have been informed. I said that the cheque had come from +you, and in saying so, I thought that it had formed a +portion of that alms which your open-handed benevolence +bestowed upon me when I attended on you, not long before +your departure, in your library. I have striven to +remember the facts. It may be,—nay, it probably is the +case,—that such struggles to catch some accurate glimpse +of bygone things do not trouble you. Your mind is, no +doubt, clearer and stronger than mine, having been kept to +its proper tune by greater and fitter work. With me, +memory is all but gone, and the power of thinking is on +the wane! I struggled to remember, and I thought that the +cheque had been in the envelope which you handed to +me,—and I said so. I have since learned, from tidings +received, as I am told, direct from yourself, that I was +as wrong in the second statement as I had been in the +first. The double blunder has, of course, been very heavy +on me.</p> + +<p>I was taken before the magistrates at Silverbridge, and +was by them committed to stand my trial at the assizes to +be holden in Barchester on the 28th of this month. Without +doubt, the magistrates had no alternative but to commit +me, and I am indebted to them that they have allowed me my +present liberty upon bail. That my sufferings in all this +should have been grievous, you will understand. But on +that head I shall not touch, were it not that I am bound +to explain to you that my troubles in reference to this +parish of Hogglestock, to which I was appointed by you, +have not been the slightest of those sufferings. I felt at +first, believing then that the world around me would think +it unlikely that such a one as I had wilfully stolen a sum +of money, that it was my duty to maintain myself in my +church. I did so maintain myself against an attack made +upon me by the bishop, who sent over to Hogglestock one Mr +Thumble, a gentleman doubtless in holy orders, though I +know nothing and can learn nothing of the place of his +cure, to dispossess me of my pulpit and to remove me from +my ministrations among my people. To Mr Thumble I turned a +deaf ear, and would not let him so much as open his mouth +inside the porch of my church. Up to this time I myself +have read the services, and have preached to the people, +and have continued, as best I could, my visits to the poor +and my labours in the school, though I know,—no one knows +as well,—how unfitted I am for such work by the grief +which has fallen upon me.</p> + +<p>Then the bishop sent for me, and I thought it becoming on +my part to go to him. I presented myself to his lordship +at his palace, and was minded to be much governed in my +conduct by what he might say to me, remembering that I am +bound to respect the office, even though I may not approve +the man; and I humbled myself before his lordship, waiting +patiently for any directions which he in his discretion +might think proper to bestow on me. But there arose up +between us that very pestilent woman, his wife,—to his +dismay, seemingly, as much as to mine,—and she would let +there be place for no speech but her own. If there be +aught clear to me in ecclesiastical matters, it is +this,—that no authority can be delegated to a female. The +special laws of this and of some other countries do allow +that women shall sit upon the temporal thrones of the +earth, but on the lowest step of the throne of the Church +no woman has been allowed to sit as bearing authority, the +romantic tale of the woman Pope notwithstanding. +Thereupon, I left the palace in wrath, feeling myself +aggrieved that a woman should have attempted to dictate to +me, and finding it hopeless to get a clear instruction +from his lordship,—the woman taking up the word whenever +I put a question to my lord the bishop. Nothing, +therefore, came of that interview but fruitless labour to +myself, and anger, of which I have since been ashamed.</p> + +<p>Since that time I have continued in my parish,—working, +not without zeal, though, in truth, almost without +hope,—and learning even from day to day that the opinions +of men around me have declared me to be guilty of the +crime imputed to me. And now the bishop has issued a +commission as preparatory to proceedings against me under +the Act for the punishment of clerical offences. In doing +this, I cannot say that the bishop has been ill-advised, +even though the advice may have come from that +evil-tongued lady, his wife. And I hold that a woman may +be called on for advice, with most salutary effect, in +affairs as to which any show of female authority should be +equally false and pernicious. With me it has ever been so, +and I have had a counsellor by me as wise as she has been +devoted.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>It must be noticed that in the draft copy of his letter which Mr +Crawley gave to his wife to read this last sentence was not inserted. +Intending that she should read his letter, he omitted it till he made +the fair copy.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>Over this commission his lordship has appointed Dr Tempest +of Silverbridge to preside, and with him I have been in +communication. I trust that the labours of the gentlemen +of whom it is composed may be brought to a speedy close; +and, having regard to their trouble, which in such a +matter is, I fear, left without remuneration, I have +informed Dr Tempest that I should write this letter to you +with the intent and assured purpose of resigning the +perpetual curacy of Hogglestock into your hands.</p> + +<p>You will be good enough, therefore, to understand that I +do so resign the living, and that I shall continue to +administer the services of the Church only till some +clergyman, certified to me as coming from you or from the +bishop, may present himself in the parish, and shall +declare himself prepared to undertake the cure. Should it +be so that Mr Thumble be sent hither again, I will sit +under him, endeavouring to catch improvement from his +teaching, and striving to overcome the contempt which I +felt for him when he before visited this parish. I annex +beneath my signature a copy of the letter which I have +written to the bishop on this subject.</p> + +<p>And now it behoves me, as the guardianship of the souls of +those around me was placed in my hands by you, to explain +to you as shortly as may be possible the reasons which +have induced me to abandon my work. One or two whose +judgment I do not discredit,—and I am allowed to name Dr +Tempest of Silverbridge as one,—have suggested to me that +I should take no step myself till after my trial. They +think that I should have regard to the chance of the +verdict, so that the preferment may still be mine should I +be acquitted; and they say, that should I be acquitted, +the bishop's action against me must of necessity cease. +That they are right in these facts I do not doubt; but in +giving such advice they look only to facts, having no +regard to the conscience. I do not blame them. I should +give such advice myself, knowing that a friend may give +counsel as to outer things, but that a man must satisfy +his inner conscience by his own perceptions of what is +right and what is wrong.</p> + +<p>I find myself to be ill-spoken of, to be regarded with +hard eyes by those around me, my people thinking that I +have stolen this money. Two farmers in this parish have, +as I am aware, expressed opinions that no jury could +acquit me honestly, and neither of these men have appeared +in my church since the expression of that opinion. I doubt +whether they have gone to other churches; and if not they +have been deterred from all public worship by my presence. +If this be so, how can I with a clear conscience remain +among these men? Shall I take from their hands wages for +those administrations, which their deliberately formed +opinions will not allow them to accept from my hands?<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>And yet, though he thus pleaded against himself, he knew that the two +men of whom he was speaking were thick-headed dolts who were always +tipsy on Saturday nights, and who came to church perhaps once in +three weeks.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>Your kind heart will doubtless prompt you to tell me that +no clergyman could be safe in his parish if he were to +allow the opinion of chance parishioners to prevail +against him; and you would probably lay down for my +guidance that grand old doctrine "Nil conscire sibi, nulla +pallescere culpa." Presuming that you may do so, I will +acknowledge such guidance to be good. If my mind were +clear in this matter, I would not budge an inch for any +farmer,—no, nor for any bishop, further than he might by +law compel me! But my mind is not clear. I do grow pale, +and my hair stands on end with horror, as I confess to +myself that I do not know whether I stole this money or +no! Such is the fact. In all sincerity I tell you that I +know not whether I be guilty or innocent. It may be that I +picked up the cheque from the floor of my room, and +afterwards took it out and used it, not knowing whence it +had come to me. If it be so, I stole it, and am guilty +before the laws of my country. If it be so, I am not fit +to administer the Lord's sacraments to these people. When +the cup was last in my hand and I was blessing them, I +felt that I was not fit, and I almost dropped the chalice. +That God will know my weakness and pardon me the +perplexity of my mind,—that is between Him and His +creature.</p> + +<p>As I read my letter over to myself I feel how weak are my +words, and how inefficient to explain to you the exact +position in which I stand; but they will suffice to +convince you that I am assuredly purposed to resign this +parish of Hogglestock, and that it is therefore incumbent +on you, as patron of the living, to nominate my successor +to the benefice. I have only further to ask your pardon +for this long letter, and to thank you again for the many +and great marks of friendship which you have conferred on +me. Alas, could you have foreseen in those old days how +barren of all good would have been the life of him you +then esteemed, you might perhaps have escaped the disgrace +of being called the friend of one whom no one now regards +with esteem.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, I may still say that I am,<br /> +<span class="ind8">With all affection, yours truly,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Josiah +Crawley</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The last paragraph of the letter was also added since his wife had +read it. When he had first composed the letter, he had been somewhat +proud of his words, thinking that he had clearly told his story. But +when, sitting alone at his desk, he read it again, filling his mind +as he went on with ideas which he would fain have expressed to his +old friend, were it not that he feared to indulge himself with too +many words, he began to tell himself that his story was anything but +well told. There was no expression there of the Hoggethan doctrine. +In answer to such a letter as that the dean might well say, "Think +again of it. Try yet to save yourself. Never mind the two farmers, or +Mr Thumble, or the bishop. Stick to the ship while there is a plank +above the water." Whereas it had been his desire to use words that +should make the dean clearly understand that the thing was decided. +He had failed,—as he had failed in everything throughout his life; +but nevertheless the letter must go. Were he to begin again he would +not do it better. So he added to what he had written a copy of his +note to the bishop, and the letter was fastened and sent.</p> + +<p>Mrs Crawley might probably have been more instant in her efforts to +stop the letter, had she not felt that it would not decide +everything. In the first place it was not improbable that the letter +might not reach the dean till after his return home,—and Mrs Crawley +had long since made up her mind that she would see the dean as soon +as possible after his return. She had heard from Lady Lufton that it +was not doubted in Barchester that he would be back at any rate +before the judges came into the city. And then, in the next place, +was it probable that the dean would act upon such a letter by filling +up the vacancy, even if he did get it? She trusted in the dean, and +knew that he would help them, if any help were possible. Should the +verdict go against her husband, then indeed it might be that no help +would be possible. In such case she thought that the bishop with his +commission might prevail. But she still believed that the verdict +would be favourable, if not with an assured belief, still with a hope +that was sufficient to stand in lieu of a belief. No single man, let +alone no twelve men, could think that her husband had intended to +appropriate that money dishonestly. That he had taken it +improperly,—without real possession,—she herself believed; but he +had not taken it as a thief, and could not merit a thief's +punishment.</p> + +<p>After two days he got a reply from the bishop's chaplain, in which +the chaplain expressed the bishop's commendation of Mr Crawley's +present conduct. "Mr Thumble shall proceed from hence to Hogglestock +on next Sunday," said the chaplain, "and shall relieve you for the +present from the burden of your duties. As to the future status of +the parish, it will perhaps be best that nothing shall be done till +the dean returns,—or perhaps till the assizes shall be over. This is +the bishop's opinion." It need hardly be explained that the promised +visit of Mr Thumble to Hogglestock was gall and wormwood to Mr +Crawley. He had told the dean that should Mr Thumble come, he would +endeavour to learn something even from him. But it may be doubted +whether Mr Crawley in his present mood could learn anything useful +from Mr Thumble. Giles Hoggett was a much more effective teacher.</p> + +<p>"I will endure even that," he said to his wife, as she handed to him +back the letter from the bishop's chaplain.</p> + + +<p><a name="c63" id="c63"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIII</h3> +<h3>Two Visitors to Hogglestock<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The cross-grainedness of men is so great that things will often be +forced to go wrong, even when they have the strongest possible +natural tendency of their own to go right. It was so now in these +affairs between the archdeacon and his son. The original difficulty +was solved by the good feeling of the young lady,—by that and by the +real kindness of the archdeacon's nature. They had come to terms +which were satisfactory to both of them, and those terms admitted of +perfect reconciliation between the father and his son. Whether the +major did marry the lady or whether he did not, his allowance was to +be continued to him, the archdeacon being perfectly willing to trust +himself in the matter to the pledge which he had received from Miss +Crawley. All that he had required from his son was simply this,—that +he should pull down the bills advertising the sale of his effects. +Was any desire more rational? The sale had been advertised for a day +just one week in advance of the assizes, and the time must have been +selected,—so thought the archdeacon,—with a malicious intention. +Why, at any rate, should the things be sold before any one knew +whether the father of the young lady was or was not to be regarded as +a thief? And why should the things be sold at all, when the +archdeacon had tacitly withdrawn his threats,—when he had given his +son to understand that the allowance would still be paid quarterly +with the customary archidiaconal regularity, and that no alteration +was intended in those settlements under which the Plumstead foxes +would, in the ripeness of time, become the property of the major +himself. It was thus that the archdeacon looked at it, and as he did +so, he thought that his son was the most cross-grained of men.</p> + +<p>But the major had his own way of looking at the matter. He had, he +flattered himself, dealt very fairly with his father. When he had +first made up his mind to make Miss Crawley his wife, he had told his +father of his intention. The archdeacon declared that, if he did so, +such and such results would follow,—results which, as was apparent +to every one, would make it indispensable that the major should leave +Cosby Lodge. The major had never complained. So he told himself. He +had simply said to his father,—"I shall do as I have said. You can +do as you have said. Therefore I shall prepare to leave Cosby Lodge." +He had so prepared; and as a part of that preparation, the +auctioneer's bills had been stuck up on the posts and walls. Then the +archdeacon had gone to work surreptitiously with the lady,—the +reader will understand that we are still following the workings of +the major's mind,—and having succeeded in obtaining a pledge which +he had been wrong to demand, came forward very graciously to withdraw +his threats. He withdrew his threats because he had succeeded in his +object by other means. The major knew nothing of the kiss that had +been given, of the two tears that had trickled down his father's +nose, of the generous epithets which the archdeacon had applied to +Grace. He did not guess how nearly his father had yielded altogether +beneath the pressure of Grace's charms,—how willing he was to yield +altogether at the first decent opportunity. His father had obtained a +pledge from Grace that she would not marry in certain +circumstances,—as to which circumstances the major was strongly +resolved that they should form no bar to his marriage,—and then came +forward with his eager demand that the sale should be stopped! The +major could not submit to so much indignity. He had resolved that his +father should have nothing to do with his marriage one way or the +other. He would not accept anything from his father on the +understanding that his father had any such right. His father had +asserted such right with threats, and he, the major, taking such +threats as meaning something, had seen that he must leave Cosby +Lodge. Let his father come forward, and say that they meant nothing, +that he abandoned all right to any interference as to his son's +marriage, and then the son—would dutifully consent to accept his +father's bounty! They were both cross-grained, as Mrs Grantly +declared; but I think that the major was the most cross-grained of +the two.</p> + +<p>Something of the truth made its way into Henry Grantly's mind as he +drove home from Barchester after seeing his grandfather. It was not +that he began to think that his father was right, but that he almost +perceived that it might be becoming in him to forgive some fault in +his father. He had been implored to honour his father, and he was +willing to do so, understanding that such honour must, to a certain +degree, imply obedience,—if it could be done at no more than a +moderate expense to his feelings. The threatened auctioneer was the +cause of offence to his father, and he might see whether it would not +be possible to have the sale postponed. There would, of course, be a +pecuniary loss, and that in his diminished circumstances,—he would +still talk to himself of his diminished circumstances,—might be +inconvenient. But so much he thought himself bound to endure on his +father's behalf. At any rate, he would consult the auctioneer at +Silverbridge.</p> + +<p>But he would not make any pause in the measures which he had proposed +to himself as likely to be conducive to his marriage. As for Grace's +pledge, such pledges from young ladies never went for anything. It +was out of the question that she should be sacrificed, even though +her father had taken the money. And, moreover, the very gist of the +major's generosity was to consist in his marrying her whether the +father were guilty or innocent. He understood that perfectly, and +understood also that it was his duty to make his purpose in this +respect known to Grace's family. He determined, therefore, that he +would go over to Hogglestock, and see Mr Crawley before he saw the +auctioneer.</p> + +<p>Hitherto Major Grantly had never spoken to Mr Crawley. It may be +remembered that the major was at the present moment one of the +bailsmen for the due appearance of Mr Crawley before the judge, and +that he had been present when the magistrates sat at the inn in +Silverbridge. He therefore knew the man's presence, but except on +that occasion he had never even seen his intended future +father-in-law. From that moment when he had first allowed himself to +think of Grace, he had desired, yet almost feared, to make +acquaintance with the father; but had been debarred from doing so by +the peculiar position in which Mr Crawley was placed. He had felt +that it would be impossible to speak to the father of his affection +for the daughter without any allusion to the coming trial; and he did +not know how such allusion could be made. Thinking of this, he had at +different times almost resolved not to call at Hogglestock till the +trial should be over. Then he would go there, let the result of the +trial have been what it might. But it had now become necessary for +him to go on at once. His father had precipitated matters by his +appeal to Grace. He would appeal to Grace's father, and reach Grace +through his influence.</p> + +<p>He drove over to Hogglestock, feeling himself to be anything but +comfortable as he came near to the house. And when he did reach the +spot he was somewhat disconcerted to find that another visitor was in +the house before him. He presumed this to be the case, because there +stood a little pony horse,—an animal which did not recommend itself +to his instructed eye,—attached by its rein to the palings. It was a +poor humble-looking beast, whose knees had very lately become +acquainted with the hard and sharp stones of a newly-mended highway. +The blood was even now red upon the wounds.</p> + +<p>"He'll never be much good again," said the major to his servant.</p> + +<p>"That he won't, sir," said the man. "But I don't think he's been very +much good for some time back."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't like to have to ride him into Silverbridge," said the +major, descending from the gig, and instructing his servant to move +the horse and gig about as long as he might remain within the house. +Then he walked across the little garden and knocked at the door. The +door was immediately opened, and in the passage he found Mr Crawley, +and another clergyman whom the reader will recognise as Mr Thumble. +Mr Thumble had come over to make arrangements as to the Sunday +services and the parochial work, and had been very urgent in +impressing on Mr Crawley that the duties were to be left entirely to +himself. Hence had come some bitter words, in which Mr Crawley, +though no doubt he said the sharper things of the two, had not been +able to vanquish his enemy so completely as he had done on former +occasions.</p> + +<p>"There must be no interference, my dear sir,—none whatever, if you +please," Mr Thumble had said.</p> + +<p>"There shall be none of which the bishop shall have reason to +complain," Mr Crawley had replied.</p> + +<p>"There must be none at all, Mr Crawley, if you please. It is only on +that understanding that I have consented to take the parish +temporarily into my hands. Mrs Crawley, I hope that there may be no +mistake about the schools. It must be exactly as though I were +residing on the spot."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Mr Crawley, very irate at this appeal to his wife, and +speaking in a loud voice, "do you misdoubt my word; or do you think +that if I were minded to be false to you, that I should be corrected +in my falsehood by the firmer faith of my wife?"</p> + +<p>"I meant nothing about falsehood, Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"Having resigned this benefice for certain reasons of my own, with +which I shall not trouble you, and acknowledging as I do,—and have +done in writing under my hand to the bishop,—the propriety of his +lordship's interference in providing for the services of the parish +till my successor shall have been instituted, I shall, with what +feelings of regret, I need not say, leave you to the performance of +your temporary duties."</p> + +<p>"That is all that I require, Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"But it is wholly unnecessary that you should instruct me in mine."</p> + +<p>"The bishop especially desires—" began Mr Thumble. But Mr Crawley +interrupted him instantly—</p> + +<p>"If the bishop has directed you to give me such instruction, the +bishop has been much in error. I will submit to receive none from him +through you, sir. If you please, sir, let there be an end of it;" and +Mr Crawley waved his hand. I hope the reader will conceive the tone +of Mr Crawley's voice, and will appreciate the aspect of his face, +and will see the motion of his hand, as he spoke these latter words. +Mr Thumble felt the power of the man so sensibly that he was unable +to carry on the contest. Though Mr Crawley was now but a broken reed, +and was beneath his feet, yet Mr Thumble acknowledged to himself that +he could not hold his own in debate with this broken reed. But the +words had been spoken, and the tone of the voice had died away, and +the fire in the eyes had burned itself out before the moment of the +major's arrival. Mr Thumble was now returning to his horse, and +having enjoyed,—if he did enjoy,—his little triumph about the +parish, was becoming unhappy at the future dangers that awaited him. +Perhaps he was the more unhappy because it had been proposed to him +by authorities at the palace that he should repeatedly ride on the +same animal from Barchester to Hogglestock and back. Mr Crawley was +in the act of replying to lamentations on this subject, with his hand +on the latch, when the major arrived—"I regret to say, sir that I +cannot assist you by supplying any other steed." Then the major had +knocked, and Mr Crawley had at once opened the door.</p> + +<p>"You probably do not remember me, Mr Crawley?" said the major. "I am +Major Grantly." Mrs Crawley, who heard these words inside the room, +sprang up from her chair, and could hardly resist the temptation to +rush into the passage. She too had barely seen Major Grantly; and now +the only bright gleam which appeared on her horizon depended on his +constancy under circumstances which would have justified his +inconstancy. But had he meant to be inconstant, surely he would never +have come to Hogglestock!</p> + +<p>"I remember you well, sir," said Mr Crawley. "I am under no common +obligation to you. You are at present one of my bailsmen."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing in that," said the major.</p> + +<p>Mr Thumble, who had caught the name of Grantly, took off his hat, +which he had put on his head. He had not been particular in keeping +off his hat before Mr Crawley. But he knew very well that Archdeacon +Grantly was a big man in the diocese; and though the Grantlys and the +Proudies were opposed to each other, still it might be well to take +off his hat before any one who had to do with the big ones of the +diocese. "I hope your respected father is well, sir?" said Mr +Thumble.</p> + +<p>"Pretty well, I thank you." The major stood close up against the wall +of the passage, so as to allow room for Mr Thumble to pass out. His +business was one on which he could hardly begin to speak until the +visitor had gone. Mr Crawley was standing with the door wide open in +his hand. He also was anxious to be rid of Mr Thumble,—and was +perhaps not so solicitous as a brother clergyman should have been +touching the future fate of Mr Thumble in the matter of the bishop's +old cob.</p> + +<p>"Really, I don't know what to do as to getting upon him again," said +Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"If you will allow him to progress slowly," said Mr Crawley, "he will +probably travel with the greater safety."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you call slow, Mr Crawley. I was ever so much over +two hours coming here from Barchester. He stumbled almost at every +step."</p> + +<p>"Did he fall while you were on him?" asked the major.</p> + +<p>"Indeed he did, sir. You never saw such a thing, Major Grantly. Look +here." Then Mr Thumble, turning round, showed that the rear portion +of his clothes had not escaped without injury.</p> + +<p>"It was well that he was not going fast, or you would have come on to +your head," said Grantly.</p> + +<p>"It was a mercy," said Thumble. "But, sir, as it was, I came to the +ground with much violence. It was on Spigglewick Hill, where the road +is covered with loose stones. I see, sir, you have a gig and horse +here, with a servant. Perhaps, as the circumstances are so very +peculiar,<span class="nowrap">—"</span> Then +Mr Thumble stopped, and looked up into the major's +face with imploring eyes. But the major had no tenderness for such +sufferings. "I'm sorry to say that I am going quite the other way," +he said. "I am returning to Silverbridge."</p> + +<p>Mr Thumble hesitated, and then made a renewed request. "If you would +not mind taking me to Silverbridge, I could get home from thence by +railway; and perhaps you would allow your servant to take the horse +to Barchester."</p> + +<p>Major Grantly was for a moment dumbfounded. "The request is most +unreasonable, sir." said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"That is as Major Grantly pleases to look at it," said Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to say that it is quite out of my power," said the major.</p> + +<p>"You can surely walk, leading the beast, if you fear to mount him," +said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"I shall do as I please about that," said Mr Thumble. "And, Mr +Crawley, if you will have the kindness to leave things in the parish +just as they are,—just as they are, I will be obliged to you. It is +the bishop's wish that you should touch nothing." Mr Thumble was by +this time on the step, and Mr Crawley instantly slammed the door. +"The gentleman is a clergyman from Barchester," said Mr Crawley, +modestly folding his hands upon his breast, "whom the bishop has sent +over here to take upon himself temporarily the services of the +church, and, as it appears, the duties also of the parish. I refrain +from animadverting upon his lordship's choice."</p> + +<p>"And you are leaving Hogglestock?"</p> + +<p>"When I have found a shelter for my wife and children I shall do so; +nay, peradventure, I must do so before any such shelter can be found. +I shall proceed in that matter as I am bid. I am one who can regard +myself as no longer possessing the privilege of free action in +anything. But while I have a room at your service, permit me to ask +you to enter it." Then Mr Crawley motioned him in with his hand, and +Major Grantly found himself in the presence of Mrs Crawley and her +younger daughter.</p> + +<p>He looked at them both for a moment, and could trace much of the +lines of that face which he loved so well. But the troubles of life +had almost robbed the elder lady of her beauty; and with the younger, +the awkward thinness of the last years of feminine childhood had not +yet given place to the fulfilment of feminine grace. But the likeness +in each was quite enough to make him feel that he ought to be at home +in that room. He thought that he could love the woman as his mother, +and the girl as his sister. He found it very difficult to begin any +conversation in their presence, and yet it seemed to be his duty to +begin. Mr Crawley had marshalled him into the room, and having done +so, stood aside near the door. Mrs Crawley had received him very +graciously, and having done so, seemed to be ashamed of her own +hospitality. Poor Jane had shrunk back into a distant corner, near +the open standing desk at which she was accustomed to read Greek to +her father, and, of course, could not be expected to speak. If Major +Grantly could have found himself alone with any one of the +three,—nay, if he could have been there with any two, he could have +opened his budget at once; but, before all the family, he felt the +difficulty of his situation. "Mrs Crawley," said he, "I have been +most anxious to make your acquaintance, and I trust you will excuse +the liberty I have taken in calling."</p> + +<p>"I feel grateful to you, as I am sure does also my husband." So much +she said, and then felt angry with herself for saying so much. Was +she not expressing the strong hope that he might stand fast by her +child, whereby the whole Crawley family would gain so much,—and the +Grantly family lose much, in the same proportion?</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Mr Crawley, "I owe you thanks, still unexpressed, in that +you came forward together with Mr Robarts of Framley, to satisfy the +not unnatural requisition of the magistrates before whom I was called +upon to appear in the early winter. I know not why any one should +have ventured into such jeopardy on my account."</p> + +<p>"There was no jeopardy, Mr Crawley. Any one in the county would have +done it."</p> + +<p>"I know not that; nor can I see that there was no jeopardy. I trust +that I may assure you that there is no danger;—none, I mean, to you. +The danger to myself and those belonging to me, is, alas, very +urgent. The facts of my position are pressing close upon me. Methinks +I suffer more from the visit of the gentleman who has just departed +from me than anything that has yet happened to me. And yet he is in +his right;—he is altogether in his right."</p> + +<p>"No, papa; he is not," said Jane, from her standing ground near the +upright desk.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said her father, "you should be silent on such a subject. +It is a matter hard to be understood in all its bearings,—even by +those who are most conversant with them. But as to this we need not +trouble Major Grantly."</p> + +<p>After that there was silence among them, and for a while it seemed as +though there could be no approach to the subject on which Grantly had +come hither to express himself. Mrs Crawley, in her despair, said +something about the weather; and the major, trying to draw near the +special subject, became bold enough to remark "that he had had the +pleasure of seeing Miss Crawley at Framley." "Mrs Robarts has been +very kind," said Mrs Crawley, "very kind indeed. You can understand, +Major Grantly, that this must be a very sad house for any young +person." "I don't think it is at all sad," said Jane, still standing +in the corner by the upright desk.</p> + +<p>Then Major Grantly rose from his seat and walked across to the girl +and took her hand. "You are so like your sister," said he. "Your +sister is a great friend of mine. She has often spoken to me of you. +I hope we shall be friends some day." But Jane could make no answer +to this, although she had been able to vindicate the general +character of the house while she was left in her corner by herself. +"I wonder whether you would be angry with me," continued the major, +"if I told you that I wanted to speak a word to your father and +mother alone?" To this Jane made no reply, but was out of the room +almost before the words had reached the ears of her father and +mother. Though she was only sixteen, and had as yet read nothing but +Latin and Greek,—unless we are to count the twelve books of Euclid +and Wood's Algebra, and sundry smaller exercises of the same +description,—she understood, as well as any one then present, the +reason why her absence was required.</p> + +<p>As she closed the door the major paused for a moment, expecting, or +perhaps hoping, that the father or the mother would say a word. But +neither of them had a word to say. They sat silent, and as though +conscience-stricken. Here was a rich man come, of whom they had heard +that he might probably wish to wed their daughter. It was manifest +enough to both of them that no man could marry into their family +without subjecting himself to a heavy portion of that reproach and +disgrace which was attached to them. But how was it possible that +they should not care more for their daughter,—for their own flesh +and blood, than for the incidental welfare of this rich man? As +regarded the man himself they had heard everything that was good. +Such a marriage was like the opening of paradise to their child. "Nil +conscire sibi," said the father to himself, as he buckled on his +armour for the fight.</p> + +<p>When he had waited for a moment or two the major began. "Mrs +Crawley," he said, addressing himself to the mother, "I do not quite +know how far you may be aware that I,—that I have for some time +been,—been acquainted with your eldest daughter."</p> + +<p>"I have heard from her that she is acquainted with you," said Mrs +Crawley, almost panting with anxiety.</p> + +<p>"I may as well make a clean breast of it at once," said the major, +smiling, "and say outright that I have come here to request your +permission and her father's to ask her to be my wife." Then he was +silent, and for a few moments neither Mr nor Mrs Crawley replied to +him. She looked at her husband, and he gazed at the fire, and the +smile died away from the major's face, as he watched the solemnity of +them both. There was something almost forbidding in the peculiar +gravity of Mr Crawley's countenance when, as at present, something +operated within him to cause him to express dissent from any +proposition that was made to him. "I do not know how far this may be +altogether new to you, Mrs Crawley," said the major, waiting for a +reply.</p> + +<p>"It is not new to us," said Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"May I hope, then, that you will not disapprove?"</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Mr Crawley, "I am so placed by the untoward circumstances +of my life that I can hardly claim to exercise over my own daughter +that authority which should belong to a parent."</p> + +<p>"My dear, do not say that," exclaimed Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"But I do say it. Within three weeks of this time I may be a +prisoner, subject to the criminal laws of my country. At this moment +I am without the power of earning bread for myself, or for my wife, +or for my children. Major Grantly, you have even now seen the +departure of the gentleman who has been sent here to take my place in +the parish. I am, as it were, an outlaw here, and entitled neither to +obedience nor respect from those who under other circumstances would +be bound to give me both."</p> + +<p>"Major Grantly," said the poor woman, "no husband or father in the +county is more closely obeyed or more thoroughly respected and +loved."</p> + +<p>"I am sure of it," said the major.</p> + +<p>"All this, however, matters nothing," said Mr Crawley, "and all +speech on such homely matters would amount to an impertinence before +you, sir, were it not that you have hinted at a purpose of connecting +yourself at some future time with this unfortunate family."</p> + +<p>"I meant to be plain-spoken, Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to insinuate, sir, that there was aught of reticence +in your words, so contrived that you might fall back upon the +vagueness of your expression for protection, should you hereafter see +fit to change your purpose. I should have wronged you much by such a +suggestion. I rather was minded to make known to you that I,—or, I +should rather say, we," and Mr Crawley pointed to his wife,—"shall +not accept your plainness of speech as betokening aught beyond a +conceived idea of furtherance of which you have thought it expedient +to make certain inquiries."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite follow you," said the major. "But what I want you to +do is to give me your consent to visit your daughter; and I want Mrs +Crawley to write to Grace and tell her that it's all right." Mrs +Crawley was quite sure that it was all right, and was ready to sit +down and write the letter that moment, if her husband would permit +her to do so.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that I have not been explicit," said Mr Crawley, "but I +will endeavour to make myself more plainly intelligible. My daughter, +sir, is so circumstanced in reference to her father, that I, as her +father and as a gentleman, cannot encourage any man to make a tender +to her of his hand."</p> + +<p>"But I have made up my mind about all that."</p> + +<p>"And I, sir, have made up mine. I dare not tell my girl that I think +she will do well to place her hand in yours. A lady, when she does +that, should feel at least that her hand is clean."</p> + +<p>"It is the cleanest and the sweetest and the fairest hand in +Barsetshire," said the major. Mrs Crawley could not restrain herself, +but running up to him, took his hand in hers and kissed it.</p> + +<p>"There is unfortunately a stain, which is vicarial," began Mr +Crawley, sustaining up to that point his voice with Roman +fortitude,—with a fortitude which would have been Roman had it not +at that moment broken down under the pressure of human feeling. He +could keep it up no longer, but continued his speech with broken +sobs, and with a voice altogether changed in its tone,—rapid now, +whereas it had before been slow,—natural, whereas it had hitherto +been affected,—human, whereas it had hitherto been Roman. "Major +Grantly," he said, "I am sore beset; but what can I say to you? My +darling is as pure as the light of day,—only that she is soiled with +my impurity. She is fit to grace the house of the best gentleman in +England, had I not made her unfit."</p> + +<p>"She shall grace mine," said the major. "By God she +shall!—to-morrow, if she'll have me." Mrs Crawley, who was standing +beside him, again raised his hand and kissed it.</p> + +<p>"It may not be so. As I began by saying,—or rather strove to say, +for I have been overtaken by weakness, and cannot speak my mind,—I +cannot claim authority over my child as would another man. How can I +exercise authority from between a prison's bars?"</p> + +<p>"She would obey your slightest wish," said Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"I could express no wish," said he. "But I know my girl, and I am +sure that she will not consent to take infamy with her into the house +of the man who loves her."</p> + +<p>"There will be no infamy," said the major. "Infamy! I tell you that I +shall be proud of the connexion."</p> + +<p>"You, sir, are generous in your prosperity. We will strive to be at +least just in our adversity. My wife and children are to be +pitied,—because of the husband and the father."</p> + +<p>"No!" said Mrs Crawley. "I will not hear that said without denying +it."</p> + +<p>"But they must take their lot as it has been given to them," +continued he. "Such a position in life as that which you have +proposed to bestow upon my child would be to her, as regards human +affairs, great elevation. And from what I have heard,—I may be +permitted to add also from what I now learn by personal +experience,—such a marriage would be laden with fair promise of +future happiness. But if you ask my mind, I think that my child is +not free to make it. You, sir, have many relatives, who are not in +love, as you are, all of whom would be affected by the stain of my +disgrace. You have a daughter, to whom all your solicitude is due. No +one should go to your house as your second wife who cannot feel that +she will serve your child. My daughter would feel that she was +bringing injury upon the babe. I cannot bid her do this,—and I will +not. Nor do I believe that she would do so if I bade her." Then he +turned his chair round, and sat with his face to the wall, wiping +away the tears with a tattered handkerchief.</p> + +<p>Mrs Crawley led the major away to the further window, and there stood +looking up into his face. It need hardly be said that they also were +crying. Whose eyes could have been dry after such a scene,—upon +hearing such words? "You had better go," said Mrs Crawley. "I know +him so well. You had better go."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Crawley," he said whispering to her, "if I ever desert her, may +all that I love desert me! But will you help me?"</p> + +<p>"You would want no help, were it not for this trouble."</p> + +<p>"But you will help me?"</p> + +<p>Then she paused for a moment, "I can do nothing," she said, "but what +he bids me."</p> + +<p>"You will trust me, at any rate?" said the major.</p> + +<p>"I do trust you," she replied. Then he went without saying a word +further to Mr Crawley. As soon as he was gone, the wife went over to +her husband, and put her arm gently round his neck as he was sitting. +For a while the husband took no notice of his wife's caress, but sat +motionless, with his face still turned to the wall. Then she spoke to +him a word or two, telling him that their visitor was gone. "My +child!" he said. "My poor child! my darling! She has found grace in +this man's sight; but even of that has her father robbed her! The +Lord has visited upon the children the sins of the father, and will +do so to the third and fourth generation."</p> + + +<p><a name="c64" id="c64"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIV</h3> +<h3>The Tragedy in Hook Court<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Conway Dalrymple had hurried out of the room in Mrs Broughton's house +in which he had been painting Jael and Sisera, thinking that it would +be better to meet an angry and perhaps tipsy husband on the stairs, +than it would be either to wait for him till he should make his way +into his wife's room, or to hide away from him with the view of +escaping altogether from so disagreeable an encounter. He had no fear +of the man. He did not think that there would be any violence,—nor, +as regarded himself, did he much care if there was to be violence. +But he felt that he was bound, as far as it might be possible, to +screen the poor woman from the ill effects of her husband's temper +and condition. He was, therefore, prepared to stop Broughton on the +stairs, and to use some force in arresting him on his way, should he +find the man to be really intoxicated. But he had not descended above +a stair or two before he was aware that the man below him, whose step +had been heard in the hall, was not intoxicated, and that he was not +Dobbs Broughton. It was Mr Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"It is you, is it?" said Conway. "I thought it was Broughton." Then +he looked into the man's face and saw that he was ashy pale. All that +appearance of low-bred jauntiness which used to belong to him seemed +to have been washed out of him. His hair had forgotten to curl, his +gloves had been thrown aside, and even his trinkets were out of +sight. "What has happened," said Conway. "What is the matter? +Something is wrong." Then it occurred to him that Musselboro had been +sent to the house to tell the wife of the husband's ruin.</p> + +<p>"The servant told me that I should find you upstairs," said +Musselboro.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have been painting here. For some time past I have been doing +a picture of Miss Van Siever. Mrs Van Siever has been here to-day." +Conway thought that this information would produce some strong effect +on Clara's proposed husband; but he did not seem to regard the matter +of the picture nor the mention of Miss Van Siever's name.</p> + +<p>"She knows nothing of it?" said he. "She doesn't know yet?"</p> + +<p>"Know what?" said Conway. "She knows that her husband has lost +money."</p> + +<p>"Dobbs has—destroyed himself."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Blew his brains out this morning just inside the entrance at Hook +Court. The horror of drink was on him, and he stood just in the +pathway and shot himself. Bangles was standing at the top of their +vaults and saw him do it. I don't think Bangles will ever be a man +again. Oh lord! I shall never get over it myself. The body was there +when I went in." Then Musselboro sank back against the wall of the +staircase, and stared at Dalrymple as though he still saw before him +the terrible sight of which he had just spoken.</p> + +<p>Dalrymple seated himself on the stairs and strove to bring his mind +to bear on the tale which he had just heard. What was he to do, and +how was that poor woman upstairs to be informed? "You came here +intending to tell her," he said in a whisper. He feared every moment +that Mrs Broughton would appear on the stairs, and learn from a word +or two what had happened without any hint to prepare her for the +catastrophe.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would be here. I knew you were doing the picture. He +knew it. He'd a letter to say so,—one of those anonymous ones."</p> + +<p>"But that didn't influence him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it was that," said Musselboro. "He meant to have had +it out with her; but it wasn't that as brought this about. Perhaps +you didn't know that he was clean ruined?"</p> + +<p>"She had told me."</p> + +<p>"Then she knew it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; she knew that. Mrs Van Siever had told her. Poor creature! +How are we to break this to her?"</p> + +<p>"You and she are very thick," said Musselboro. "I suppose you'll do +it best." By this time they were in the drawing-room, and the door +was closed. Dalrymple had put his hand on the other man's arm, and +had led him downstairs, out of reach of hearing from the room above. +"You'll tell her,—won't you?" said Musselboro. Then Dalrymple tried +to think what loving female friend there was who could break the news +to the unfortunate woman. He knew of the Van Sievers, and he knew of +the Demolines, and he almost knew that there was no other woman +within reach whom he was entitled to regard as closely connected with +Mrs Broughton. He was well aware that the anonymous letter of which +Musselboro had just spoken had come from Miss Demolines, and he could +not go there for sympathy and assistance. Nor could he apply to Mrs +Van Siever after what had passed this morning. To Clara Van Siever he +would have applied, but that it was impossible he should reach Clara +except through her mother. "I suppose I had better go to her," he +said, after a while. And then he went, leaving Musselboro in the +drawing-room. "I'm so bad with it," said Musselboro, "that I really +don't know how I shall ever go up that court again."</p> + +<p>Conway Dalrymple made his way up the stairs with very slow steps, and +as he did so he could not but think seriously of the nature of his +friendship with this woman, and could not but condemn himself +heartily for the folly and iniquity of his own conduct. Scores of +times he had professed his love to her with half-expressed words, +intended to mean nothing, as he said to himself when he tried to +excuse himself, but enough to turn her head, even if they did not +reach her heart. Now, this woman was a widow, and it came to be his +duty to tell her that she was so. What if she should claim from him +now the love which he had so often proffered to her! It was not that +he feared that she would claim anything from him at this +moment,—neither now, nor to-morrow, nor the next day,—but the agony +of the present meeting would produce others in which there would be +some tenderness mixed with the agony; and so from one meeting to +another the thing would progress. Dalrymple knew well enough how such +things might progress. But in this danger before him, it was not of +himself that he was thinking, but of her. How could he assist her at +such a time without doing her more injury than benefit? And, if he +did not assist her, who would do so? He knew her to be heartless; but +even heartless people have hearts which can be touched and almost +broken by certain sorrows. Her heart would not be broken by her +husband's death, but it would become very sore if she were utterly +neglected. He was now at the door, with his hand on the lock, and was +wondering why she should remain so long within without making herself +heard. Then he opened it, and found her seated in a lounging-chair, +with her back to the door, and he could see that she had a volume of +a novel in her hand. He understood it all. She was pretending to be +indifferent to her husband's return. He walked up to her, thinking +that she would recognise his step; but she made no sign of turning +towards him. He saw the motion of her hair over the back of the chair +as she affected to make herself luxuriously comfortable. She was +striving to let her husband see that she cared nothing for him, or +for his condition, or for his jealousy, if he were jealous,—or even +of his ruin. "Mrs Broughton," he said, when he was close to her. Then +she jumped up quickly, and turned round facing him. "Where is Dobbs?" +she said. "Where is Broughton?"</p> + +<p>"He is not here."</p> + +<p>"He is in the house, for I heard him. Why have you come back?"</p> + +<p>Dalrymple's eye fell on the tattered canvas, and he thought of the +doings of the past month. He thought of the picture of the three +Graces, which was hanging in the room below, and he thoroughly wished +that he had never been introduced to the Broughton establishment. How +was he to get through his present difficulty? "No," said he, +"Broughton did not come. It was Mr Musselboro whose steps you heard +below."</p> + +<p>"What is he here for? What is he doing here? Where is Dobbs? Conway, +there is something the matter. Has he gone off?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—he has gone off."</p> + +<p>"The coward!"</p> + +<p>"No; he was not a coward;—not in that way."</p> + +<p>The use of the past tense, unintentional as it had been, told the +story to the woman at once. "He is dead," she said. Then he took both +her hands in his and looked into her face without speaking a word. +And she gazed at him with fixed eyes, and rigid mouth, while the +quick coming breath just moved the curl of her nostrils. It occurred +to him at the moment that he had never before seen her so wholly +unaffected, and had never before observed that she was so totally +deficient in all the elements of real beauty. She was the first to +speak again. "Conway," she said, "tell it me all. Why do you not +speak to me?"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing further to tell," he said.</p> + +<p>Then she dropped his hands and walked away from him to the +window,—and stood there looking out upon the stuccoed turret of a +huge house that stood opposite. As she did so she was employing +herself in counting the windows. Her mind was paralysed by the blow, +and she knew not how to make any exertion with it for any purpose. +Everything was changed with her,—and was changed in such a way that +she could make no guess as to her future mode of life. She was +suddenly a widow, a pauper, and utterly desolate,—while the only +person in the whole world that she really liked was standing close to +her. But in the midst of it all she counted the windows of the house +opposite. Had it been possible for her she would have put her mind +altogether to sleep.</p> + +<p>He let her stand for a few minutes and then joined her at the window. +"My friend," he said, "what shall I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"Do?" she said. "What do you mean by—doing?"</p> + +<p>"Come and sit down and let me talk to you," he replied. Then he led +her to the sofa, and as she seated herself I doubt whether she had +not almost forgotten that her husband was dead.</p> + +<p>"What a pity it was to cut it up," she said, pointing to the rags of +Jael and Sisera.</p> + +<p>"Never mind the picture now. Dreadful as it is, you must allow +yourself to think of him for a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"Think of what! Oh, God! yes. Conway, you must tell me what to do. +Was everything gone? It isn't about myself. I don't mind about +myself. I wish it was me instead of him. I do. I do."</p> + +<p>"No wishing is of any avail."</p> + +<p>"But, Conway, how did it happen? Do you think it is true? That man +would say anything to gain his object. Is he here now?"</p> + +<p>"I believe he is here still."</p> + +<p>"I won't see him. Remember that. Nothing on earth can make me see +him."</p> + +<p>"It may be necessary, but I do not think it will be;—at any rate, +not yet."</p> + +<p>"I will never see him. I believe that he has murdered my husband. I +do. I feel sure of it. Now I think of it I am quite sure of it. And +he will murder you too;—about that girl. He will. I tell you I know +the man." Dalrymple simply shook his head, smiling sadly. "Very well! +you will see. But, Conway, how do you know that it is true? Do you +believe it yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I do believe it."</p> + +<p>"And how did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"He could not bear the ruin that he had brought upon himself and +you."</p> + +<p>"Then;—then—" She went no further in her speech; but Dalrymple +assented by a slight motion of his head, and she had been informed +sufficiently that her husband had perished by his own hand. "What am +I to do?" she said. "Oh, Conway;—you must tell me. Was there ever so +miserable a woman! Was it—poison?"</p> + +<p>He got up and walked quickly across the room and back again to the +place where she was sitting. "Never mind about that now. You shall +know all that in time. Do not ask any questions about that. If I were +you I think I would go to bed. You will be better there than up, and +this shock will make you sleep."</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "I will not go to bed. How should I know that that +man would not come to me and kill me? I believe he murdered Dobbs;—I +do. You are not going to leave me, Conway?"</p> + +<p>"I think I had better, for a while. There are things which should be +done. Shall I send one of the women to you?"</p> + +<p>"There is not one of them that cares for me in the least. Oh, Conway, +do not go; not yet. I will not be left alone in the house with him. +You will be very cruel if you go and leave me now,—when you have so +often said that you,—that you,—that you were my friend." And now, +at last, she began to weep.</p> + +<p>"I think it will be best," he said, "that I should go to Mrs Van +Siever. If I can manage it, I will get Clara to come to you."</p> + +<p>"I do not want her," said Mrs Broughton. "She is a heartless cold +creature, and I do not want to have her near me. My poor husband was +ruined among them;—yes, ruined among them. It has all been done that +she may marry that horrid man and live here in this house. I have +known ever so long that he has not been safe among them."</p> + +<p>"You need fear nothing from Clara," said Dalrymple, with some touch +of anger in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Of course you will say so. I can understand that very well. And it +is natural that you should wish to be with her. Pray go."</p> + +<p>Then he sat beside her, and took her hand, and endeavoured to speak +to her so seriously, that she herself might become serious, and if it +might be possible, in some degree contemplative. He told her how +necessary it was that she should have some woman near her in her +trouble, and explained to her that as far as he knew her female +friends, there would be no one who would be so considerate with her +as Clara Van Siever. She at one time mentioned the name of Miss +Demolines; but Dalrymple altogether opposed the notion of sending for +that lady,—expressing his opinion that the amiable Madalina had done +all in her power to create quarrels between Mrs Broughton and her +husband and between Dobbs Broughton and Mrs Van Siever. And he spoke +his opinion very fully about Miss Demolines. "And yet you liked her +once," said Mrs Broughton. "I never liked her," said Dalrymple with +energy. "But all that matters nothing now. Of course you can send for +her if you please; but I do not think her trustworthy, and I will not +willingly come in contact with her." Then Mrs Broughton gave him to +understand that of course she must give way, but that in giving way +she felt herself to be submitting to that ill-usage which is the +ordinary lot of women, and to which she, among women, had been +specially subjected. She did not exactly say as much, fearing that if +she did he would leave her altogether; but that was the gist of her +plaints and wails, and final acquiescence.</p> + +<p>"And are you going?" she said, catching hold of his arm.</p> + +<p>"I will employ myself altogether and only about your affairs, till I +see you again."</p> + +<p>"But I want you to stay."</p> + +<p>"It would be madness. Look here;—lie down till Clara comes or till I +return. Do not go beyond this room and your own. If she cannot come +this evening I will return. Good-by now. I will see the servants as I +go out, and tell them what ought to be told."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Conway," she said, clutching hold of him again. "I know that you +despise me."</p> + +<p>"I do not despise you, and I will be as good a friend to you as I +can. God bless you." Then he went, and as he descended the stairs he +could not refrain from telling himself that he did in truth despise +her.</p> + +<p>His first object was to find Musselboro, and to dismiss that +gentleman from the house. For though he himself did not attribute to +Mrs Van Siever's favourite any of those terrible crimes and +potentialities for crime, with which Mrs Dobbs Broughton had invested +him, still he thought it reasonable that the poor woman upstairs +should not be subjected to the necessity of either seeing him or +hearing him. But Musselboro had gone, and Dalrymple could not learn +from the head woman-servant whom he saw, whether before going he had +told to any one in the house the tale of the catastrophe which had +happened in the City. Servants are wonderful actors, looking often as +though they knew nothing when they know everything,—as though they +understood nothing, when they understand all. Dalrymple made known +all that was necessary, and the discreet upper servant listened to +the tale with the proper amount of awe and horror and commiseration. +"Shot hisself in the City;—laws! You'll excuse me, sir, but we all +know'd as master was coming to no good." But she promised to do her +best with her mistress,—and kept her promise. It is seldom that +servants are not good in such straits as that.</p> + +<p>From Mrs Broughton's house Dalrymple went directly to Mrs Van +Siever's, and learned that Musselboro had been there about half an +hour before, and had then gone off in a cab with Mrs Van Siever. It +was now nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, and no one in the house +knew when Mrs Van Siever would be back. Miss Van Siever was out, and +had been out when Mr Musselboro had called, but was expected in every +minute. Conway therefore said that he would call again, and on +returning found Clara alone. She had not then heard a word of the +fate of Dobbs Broughton. Of course she would go at once to Mrs +Broughton, and if necessary stay with her during the night. She wrote +a line at once to her mother, saying where she was, and went across +to Mrs Broughton leaning on Dalrymple's arm. "Be good to her," said +Conway, as he left her at the door. "I will," said Clara. "I will be +as kind as my nature will allow me." "And remember," said Conway, +whispering into her ear as he pressed her hand at leaving her, "that +you are all the world to me." It was perhaps not a proper time for an +expression of love, but Clara Van Siever forgave the impropriety.</p> + + +<p><a name="c65" id="c65"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXV</h3> +<h3>Miss Van Siever Makes Her Choice<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Clara Van Siever did stay all night with Mrs Broughton. In the course +of the evening she received a note from her mother, in which she was +told to come home to breakfast. "You can go back to her afterwards," +said Mrs Van Siever; "and I will see her myself in the course of the +day, if she will let me." The note was written on a scrap of paper, +and had neither beginning nor end; but this was after the manner of +Mrs Van Siever, and Clara was not in the least hurt or surprised. "My +mother will come to see you after breakfast," said Clara, as she was +taking her leave.</p> + +<p>"Oh, goodness! And what shall I say to her?"</p> + +<p>"You will have to say very little. She will speak to you."</p> + +<p>"I suppose everything belongs to her now," said Mrs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about that. I never do know anything of mamma's money +matters."</p> + +<p>"Of course she'll turn me out. I do not mind a bit about that,—only +I hope she'll let me have some mourning." Then she made Clara promise +that she would return as soon as possible, having in Clara's presence +overcome all that feeling of dislike which she had expressed to +Conway Dalrymple. Mrs Broughton was generally affectionate to those +who were near her. Had Musselboro forced himself into her presence, +she would have become quite confidential with him before he left her.</p> + +<p>"Mr Musselboro will be here directly," said Mrs Van Siever, as she +was starting for Mrs Broughton's house. "You had better tell him to +come to me there; or, stop,—perhaps you had better keep him here +till I come back. Tell him to be sure and wait for me."</p> + +<p>"Very well, mamma. I suppose he can wait below?"</p> + +<p>"Why should he wait below?" said Mrs Van Siever, very angrily.</p> + +<p>Clara had made the uncourteous proposition to her mother with the +express intention of making it understood that she would have nothing +to say to him. "He can come upstairs if he likes," said Clara; "and I +will go up to my room."</p> + +<p>"If you fight shy of him, miss, you may remember this,—that you will +fight shy of me at the same time."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for that, mamma, for I shall certainly fight shy of Mr +Musselboro."</p> + +<p>"You can do as you please. I can't force you, and I shan't try. But I +can make your life a burden to you,—and I will. What's the matter +with the man that he isn't good enough for you? He's as good as any +of your own people ever was. I hate your new-fangled airs,—with +pictures painted on the sly, and all the rest of it. I hate such +ways. See what they have brought that wretched man to, and the poor +fool his wife. If you go and marry that painter, some of these days +you'll be very much like what she is. Only I doubt whether he has got +courage enough to blow his brains out." With these comfortable words, +the old woman took herself off, leaving Clara to entertain her lover +as best she might choose.</p> + +<p>Mr Musselboro was not long in coming, and, in accordance with Mrs Van +Siever's implied directions to her daughter, was shown up into the +drawing-room. Clara gave him her mother's message in a very few +words. "I was expressly told, sir, to ask you to stop, if it is not +inconvenient, as she very much wants to see you." Mr Musselboro +declared that of course he would stop. He was only too happy to have +the opportunity of remaining in such delightful society. As Clara +answered nothing to this, he went on to say that he hoped that the +melancholy occasion of Mrs Van Siever's visit to Mrs Broughton might +make a long absence necessary,—he did not, indeed, care how long it +might be. He had recovered now from that paleness, and that want of +gloves and jewellery which had befallen him on the previous day +immediately after the sight he had seen in the City. Clara made no +answer to the last speech, but, putting some things together in her +work-basket, prepared to leave the room. "I hope you are not going to +leave me?" he said, in a voice that was intended to convey much of +love, and something of melancholy.</p> + +<p>"I am so shocked by what has happened, Mr Musselboro, that I am +altogether unfit for conversation. I was with poor Mrs Broughton last +night, and I shall return to her when mamma comes home."</p> + +<p>"It is sad, certainly; but what was there to be expected? If you'd +only seen how he used to go on." To this Clara made no answer. "Don't +go yet," said he; "there is something that I want to say to you. +There is, indeed."</p> + +<p>Clara Van Siever was a young person whose presence of mind rarely +deserted her. It occurred to her now that she must undergo on some +occasion the nuisance of a direct offer from this man, and that she +could have no better opportunity of answering him after her own +fashion than the present. Her mother was absent, and the field was +her own. And, moreover, it was a point in her favour that the tragedy +which had so lately occurred, and to which she had just now alluded, +would give her a fair excuse for additional severity. At such a +moment no man could, she told herself, be justified in making an +offer of his love, and therefore she might rebuke him with the less +remorse. I wonder whether the last words which Conway Dalrymple had +spoken to her stung her conscience as she thought of this! She had +now reached the door, and was standing close to it. As Mr Musselboro +did not at once begin, she encouraged him. "If you have anything +special to tell me, of course I will hear you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Miss Clara," he began, rising from his chair, and coming into the +middle of the room. "I think you know what my wishes are." Then he +put his hand upon his heart. "And your respected mother is the same +way of thinking. It's that that emboldens me to be so sudden. Not but +what my heart has been yours and yours only all along, before the old +lady so much as mentioned it." Clara would give him no assistance, +not even the aid of a negative, but stood there quite passive, with +her hand on the door. "Since I first had the pleasure of seeing you I +have always said to myself, 'Augustus Musselboro, that is the woman +for you, if you can only win her.' But there was so much against +me,—wasn't there?" She would not even take advantage of this by +assuring him that there certainly always had been much against him, +but allowed him to go on till he should run out all the length of his +tether. "I mean, of course, in the way of money," he continued. "I +hadn't much that I could call my own when your respected mamma first +allowed me to become acquainted with you. But it's different now; and +I think I may say that I'm all right in that respect. Poor +Broughton's going in this way will make it a deal smoother to me; and +I may say that I and your mamma will be all in all to each other now +about money." Then he stopped.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand what you mean by all this," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I mean that there isn't a more devoted fellow in all London than +what I am to you." Then he was about to go down on one knee, but it +occurred to him that it would not be convenient to kneel to a lady +who would stand quite close to the door. "One and one, if they're put +together well, will often make more than two, and so they shall with +us," said Musselboro, who began to feel that it might be expedient to +throw a little spirit into his words.</p> + +<p>"If you have done," said Clara, "you may as well hear from me for a +minute. And I hope you will have sense to understand that I really +mean what I say."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will remember what are your mamma's wishes."</p> + +<p>"Mamma's wishes have no influence whatsoever with me in such matters +as this. Mamma's arrangements with you are for her own convenience, +and I am not party to them. I do not know anything about mamma's +money, and I do not want to know. But under no possible circumstances +will I consent to become your wife. Nothing that mamma could say or +do would induce me even to think of it. I hope you will be man enough +to take this for an answer, and say nothing more about it."</p> + +<p>"But, Miss Clara—"</p> + +<p>"It's no good your Miss Claraing me, sir. What I have said you may be +sure I mean. Good-morning, sir." Then she opened the door, and left +him.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, she is a Tartar," said Musselboro to himself, when he was +alone. "They're both Tartars, but the younger is the worse." Then he +began to speculate whether Fortune was not doing the best for him in +so arranging that he might have the use of the Tartar-mother's money +without binding himself to endure for life the Tartar qualities of +the daughter.</p> + +<p>It had been understood that Clara was to wait at home till her mother +should return before she again went across to Mrs Broughton. At about +eleven Mrs Van Siever came in, and her daughter intercepted her at +the dining-room door before she had made her way upstairs to Mr +Musselboro. "How is she, mamma?" said Clara with something of +hypocrisy in her assumed interest for Mrs Broughton.</p> + +<p>"She is an idiot!" said Mrs Van Siever.</p> + +<p>"She has had a terrible misfortune!"</p> + +<p>"That is no reason why she should be an idiot; and she is heartless +too. She never cared a bit for him,—not a bit."</p> + +<p>"He was a man whom it was impossible to care for much. I will go to +her now, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Where is Musselboro?"</p> + +<p>"He is upstairs."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, that is quite out of the question. Quite. I would not marry +him to save myself from starving."</p> + +<p>"You do not know what starving is yet, my dear. Tell me the truth at +once. Are you engaged to that painter?" Clara paused a moment before +she answered, not hesitating as to the expediency of telling her +mother any truth on the matter in question, but doubting what the +truth might really be. Could she say that she was engaged to Mr +Dalrymple, or could she say that she was not? "If you tell me a lie, +miss, I'll have you put out of the house."</p> + +<p>"I certainly shall not tell you a lie. Mr Dalrymple has asked me to +be his wife, and I have made him no answer. If he asks me again I +shall accept him."</p> + +<p>"Then I order you not to leave this house," said Mrs Van Siever.</p> + +<p>"Surely I may go to Mrs Broughton?"</p> + +<p>"I order you not to leave this house," said Mrs Van Siever +again,—and thereupon she stalked out of the dining-room and went +upstairs. Clara had been standing with her bonnet on, ready dressed +to go out, and the mother made no attempt to send the daughter up to +her room. That she did not expect to be obeyed in her order may be +inferred from the first words which she spoke to Mr Musselboro. "She +has gone off to that man now. You are no good, Musselboro, at this +kind of work."</p> + +<p>"You see, Mrs Van, he had the start of me so much. And then being at +the West End, and all that, gives a man such a standing with a girl."</p> + +<p>"Bother!" said Mrs Van Siever, as her quick ear caught the sound of +the closing hall-door. Clara had stood a minute or two to consider, +and then had resolved that she would disobey her mother. She tried to +excuse her own conduct to her own satisfaction as she went. "There +are some things," she said, "which even a daughter cannot hear from +her mother. If she chooses to close the door against me, she must do +so."</p> + +<p>She found Mrs Broughton still in bed, and could not but agree with +her mother that the woman was both silly and heartless.</p> + +<p>"Your mother says that everything must be sold up," said Mrs +Broughton.</p> + +<p>"At any rate you would hardly choose to remain here," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"But I hope she'll let me have my own things. A great many of them +are altogether my own. I know there's a law that a woman may have her +own things, even though her husband has—done what poor Dobbs did. +And I think she was hard upon me about the mourning. They never do +mind giving credit for such things as that, and though there is a +bill due to Mrs Morell now, she has had a deal of Dobbs's money." +Clara promised her that she should have mourning to her heart's +content. "I will see to that myself," she said.</p> + +<p>Presently there was a knock at the door, and the discreet +head-servant beckoned Clara out of the room. "You are not going +away," said Mrs Broughton. Clara promised her that she would not go +without coming back again. "He will be here soon, I suppose, and +perhaps you had better see him; though, for the matter of that, +perhaps you had better not, because he is so much cut up about poor +Dobbs." The servant had come to tell Clara that the "he" in question +was at the present moment waiting for her below stairs.</p> + +<p>The first words which passed between Dalrymple and Clara had +reference to the widow. He told her what he had learned in the +City,—that Broughton's property had never been great, and that his +personal liabilities at the time of his death were supposed to be +small. But he had fallen lately altogether into the hands of +Musselboro, who, though penniless himself in the way of capital, was +backed by the money of Mrs Van Siever. There was no doubt that +Broughton had destroyed himself in the manner told by Musselboro, but +the opinion in the City was that he had done so rather through the +effects of drink than because of his losses. As to the widow, +Dalrymple thought that Mrs Van Siever, or nominally, perhaps, +Musselboro, might be induced to settle an annuity on her, if she +would give up everything quietly. "I doubt whether your mother is not +responsible for everything that Broughton owed when he died,—for +everything, that is, in the way of business; and if so, Mrs Broughton +will certainly have a claim upon the estate." It occurred to +Dalrymple once or twice that he was talking to Clara about Mrs Van +Siever as though he and Clara were more closely bound together than +were Clara and her mother; but Clara seemed to take this in good +part, and was as solicitous as was he himself in the matter of Mrs +Broughton's interest.</p> + +<p>Then the discreet head-servant knocked and told them that Mrs +Broughton was very anxious to see Mr Dalrymple, but that Miss Van +Siever was on no account to go away. She was up, and in her +dressing-gown, and had gone into the sitting-room. "I will come +directly," said Dalrymple, and the discreet head-servant retired.</p> + +<p>"Clara," said Conway, "I do not know when I may have another chance +of asking for an answer to my question. You heard my question?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I heard it."</p> + +<p>"And will you answer it?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish it, I will."</p> + +<p>"Of course I wish it. You understood what I said upon the door-step +yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think much of that; men say those things so often. What you +said before was serious, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Serious! Heavens! do you think that I am joking?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma wants me to marry Mr Musselboro."</p> + +<p>"He is a vulgar brute. It would be impossible."</p> + +<p>"It is impossible; but mamma is very obstinate. I have no fortune of +my own,—not a shilling. She told me to-day that she would turn me +out into the street. She forbade me to come here, thinking I should +meet you; but I came, because I had promised Mrs Broughton. I am sure +that she will never give me one shilling."</p> + +<p>Dalrymple paused for a moment. It was certainly true that he had +regarded Clara Van Siever as an heiress, and had at first been +attracted to her because he thought it expedient to marry an heiress. +But there had since come something beyond that, and there was perhaps +less of regret than most men would have felt as he gave up his golden +hopes. He took her into his arms and kissed her, and called her his +own. "Now we understand each other," he said.</p> + +<p>"If you wish it to be so."</p> + +<p>"I do wish it."</p> + +<p>"And I shall tell my mother to-day that I am engaged to you,—unless +she refuses to see me. Go to Mrs Broughton now. I feel that we are +almost cruel to be thinking of ourselves in this house at such a +time." Upon this Dalrymple went, and Clara Van Siever was left to her +reflections. She had never before had a lover. She had never had even +a friend whom she loved and trusted. Her life had been passed at +school till she was nearly twenty, and since then she had been vainly +endeavouring to accommodate herself and her feelings to her mother. +Now she was about to throw herself into the absolute power of a man +who was nearly a stranger to her! But she did love him, as she had +never loved any one else;—and then, on the other side, there was Mr +Musselboro!</p> + +<p>Dalrymple went upstairs for an hour, and Clara did not see him again +before he left the house. It was clear to her, from Mrs Broughton's +first words, that Conway had told her what had passed. "Of course I +shall never see anything more of either of you now?" said Mrs +Broughton.</p> + +<p>"I should say that probably you will see a great deal of us both."</p> + +<p>"There are some people," said Mrs Broughton, "who can do well for +their friends, but can never do well for themselves. I am one of +them. I saw at once how great a thing it would be for both of you to +bring you two together,—especially for you, Clara; and therefore I +did it. I may say that I never had it out of my mind for months past. +Poor Dobbs misunderstood what I was doing. God knows how far that may +have brought about what has happened."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs Broughton!"</p> + +<p>"Of course he could not be blind to one thing;—nor was I. I mention +it now because it is right, but I shall never, never allude to again. +Of course he saw, and I saw, that Conway—was attached to me. Poor +Conway meant no harm. I was aware of that. But there was the terrible +fact. I knew at once that the only cure for him was a marriage with +some girl that he could respect. Admiring you as I do, I immediately +resolved on bringing you two together. My dear, I have been +successful, and I heartily trust that you may be happier than Maria +Broughton."</p> + +<p>Miss Van Siever knew the woman, understood all the facts, and pitying +the condition of the wretched creature, bore all this without a word +of rebuke. She scorned to put out her strength against one who was in +truth so weak.</p> + + +<p><a name="c66" id="c66"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVI</h3> +<h3>Requiescat in Pace<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Things were gloomy at the palace. It has already been said that for +may days after Dr Tempest's visit to Barchester the intercourse +between the bishop and Mrs Proudie had not been of a pleasant nature. +He had become so silent, so sullen, and so solitary in his ways, that +even her courage had been almost cowed, and for a while she had +condescended to use gentler measures, with the hope that she might +thus bring her lord round to his usual state of active submission; or +perhaps, if we strive to do her full justice, we may say of her that +her effort was made conscientiously, with the idea of inducing him to +do his duty with proper activity. For she was a woman not without a +conscience, and by no means indifferent to the real service which her +husband, as bishop of the diocese, was bound to render to the affairs +of the Church around her. Of her own struggles after personal +dominion she was herself unconscious; and no doubt they gave her, +when recognised and acknowledged by herself, many stabs to her inner +self, of which no single being in the world knew anything. And now, +as after a while she failed in producing any amelioration in the +bishop's mood, her temper also gave way, and things were becoming +very gloomy and very unpleasant.</p> + +<p>The bishop and his wife were at present alone in the palace. Their +married daughter and her husband had left them, and their unmarried +daughter was also away. How far the bishop's mood may have produced +this solitude in the vast house I will not say. Probably Mrs +Proudie's state of mind may have prevented her from having other +guests in the place of those who were gone. She felt herself to be +almost disgraced in the eyes of all those around her by her husband's +long absence from the common rooms of the house and by his dogged +silence at meals. It was better, she thought, that they two should be +alone in the palace.</p> + +<p>Her own efforts to bring him back to something like life, to some +activity of mind if not of body, were made constantly; and when she +failed, as she did fail day after day, she would go slowly to her own +room, and lock her door, and look back in her solitude at all the +days of her life. She had agonies in these minutes of which no one +near her knew anything. She would seize with her arm the part of the +bed near which she would stand, and hold by it, grasping it, as +though she were afraid to fall; and then, when it was at the worst +with her, she would go to her closet,—a closet that no eyes ever saw +unlocked but her own,—and fill for herself and swallow some draught; +and then she would sit down with the Bible before her, and read it +sedulously. She spent hours every day with her Bible before her, +repeating to herself whole chapters, which she knew almost by heart.</p> + +<p>It cannot be said that she was a bad woman, though she had in her +time done an indescribable amount of evil. She had endeavoured to do +good, failing partly by ignorance and partly from the effects of an +unbridled, ambitious temper. And now, even amidst her keenest +sufferings, her ambition was by no means dead. She still longed to +rule the diocese by means of her husband, but was made to pause and +hesitate by the unwonted mood that had fallen upon him. Before this, +on more than one occasion, and on one very memorable occasion, he had +endeavoured to combat her. He had fought with her, striving to put +her down. He had failed, and given up the hope of any escape for +himself in that direction. On those occasions her courage had never +quailed for a moment. While he openly struggled to be master, she +could openly struggle to be mistress,—and could enjoy the struggle. +But nothing like this moodiness had ever come upon him before.</p> + +<p>She had yielded to it for many days, striving to coax him by little +softnesses of which she herself had been ashamed as she practised +them. They had served her nothing, and at last she determined that +something else must be done. If only for his sake, to keep some life +in him, something else must be done. Were he to continue as he was +now, he must give up his diocese, or, at any rate, declare himself +too ill to keep the working of it in his own hands. How she hated Mr +Crawley for all the sorrow that he had brought upon her and her +house!</p> + +<p>And it was still the affair of Mr Crawley which urged her on to +further action. When the bishop received Mr Crawley's letter he said +nothing of it to her; but he handed it over to his chaplain. The +chaplain, fearing to act upon it himself, handed it to Mr Thumble, +whom he knew to be one of the bishop's commission, and Mr Thumble, +equally fearing responsibility in the present state of affairs at the +palace, found himself obliged to consult Mrs Proudie. Mrs Proudie had +no doubt as to what should be done. The man had abdicated his living, +and of course some provision must be made for the services. She would +again make an attempt upon her husband, and therefore she went into +his room holding Mr Crawley's letter in her hand.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said, "here is Mr Crawley's letter. I suppose you have +read it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the bishop; "I have read it."</p> + +<p>"And what will you do about it? Something must be done."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said he. He did not even look at her as he spoke. He +had not turned his eyes upon her since she had entered the room.</p> + +<p>"But, bishop, it is a letter that requires to be acted upon at once. +We cannot doubt that the man is doing right at last. He is submitting +himself where his submission is due; but his submission will be of no +avail unless you take some action upon his letter. Do you not think +that Mr Thumble had better go over?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. I think Mr Thumble had better stay where he is," said +the irritated bishop.</p> + +<p>"What, then, would you wish to have done?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said he.</p> + +<p>"But, bishop, that is nonsense," said Mrs Proudie, adding something +of severity to the tone of her voice.</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't nonsense," said he. Still he did not look at her, nor +had he done so for a moment since she had entered the room. Mrs +Proudie could not bear this, and as her anger became stronger within +her breast, she told herself that she would be wrong to bear it. She +had tried what gentleness would do, and she had failed. It was now +imperatively necessary that she should resort to sterner measures. +She must make him understand that he must give her authority to send +Mr Thumble to Hogglestock.</p> + +<p>"Why do you not turn round and speak to me properly?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I do not want to speak to you at all," the bishop answered.</p> + +<p>This was very bad;—almost anything would be better than this. He was +sitting now over the fire, with his elbows on his knees, and his face +buried in his hands. She had gone round the room so as to face him, +and was now standing almost over him, but still she could not see his +countenance. "This will not do at all," she said. "My dear, do you +know that you are forgetting yourself altogether?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could forget myself."</p> + +<p>"That might be all very well if you were in a position in which you +owed no service to any one; or, rather, it would not be well then, +but the evil would not be so manifest. You cannot do your duty in the +diocese if you continue to sit there doing nothing, with your head +upon your hands. Why do you not rally, and get to your work like a +man?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you would go away and leave me," he said.</p> + +<p>"No, bishop. I will not go away and leave you. You have brought +yourself to such a condition that it is my duty as your wife to stay +by you; and if you neglect your duty, I will not neglect mine."</p> + +<p>"It was you that brought me to it."</p> + +<p>"No sir, that is not true. I did not bring you to it."</p> + +<p>"It is the truth." And now he got up and looked at her. For a moment +he stood upon his legs, and then sat down again with his face turned +towards her. "It is the truth. You have brought on me such disgrace +that I cannot hold up my head. You have ruined me. I wish I were +dead; and it is all through you that I am driven to wish it."</p> + +<p>Of all that she had suffered in her life this was the worst. She +clasped both her hands to her side as she listened to him, and for a +minute or two she made no reply. When he ceased from speaking he +again put his elbows in his knees and again buried his face in his +hands. What had she better do, or how was it expedient that she +should treat him? At this crisis the whole thing was so important to +her that she would have postponed her own ambition and would have +curbed her temper had she thought that by doing so she might in any +degree have benefited him. But it seemed to her that she could not +rouse him by conciliation. Neither could she leave him as he was. +Something must be done. "Bishop," she said, "the words that you speak +are very sinful, very sinful."</p> + +<p>"You have made them sinful," he said.</p> + +<p>"I will not hear that from you. I will not indeed. I have endeavoured +to do my duty by you, and I do not deserve it. I am endeavouring to +do my duty now, and you must know that it would ill become me to +remain quiescent while you are in such a state. The world around you +is observing you, and knows that you are not doing your work. All I +want of you is that you should arouse yourself, and go to your work."</p> + +<p>"I could do my work very well," he said, "if you were not here."</p> + +<p>"I suppose, then, you wish that I were dead?" said Mrs Proudie. To +this he made no reply, nor did he stir himself. How could flesh and +blood bear this,—female flesh and blood,—Mrs Proudie's flesh and +blood? Now, at last, her temper once more got the better of her +judgment, probably much to her immediate satisfaction, and she spoke +out. "I'll tell you what it is, my lord; if you are imbecile, I must +be active. It is very sad that I should have to assume your +authority<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I will not allow you to assume my authority."</p> + +<p>"I must do so, or else must obtain a medical certificate as to your +incapacity, and beg that some neighbouring bishop may administer the +diocese. Things shall not go on as they are now. I, at any rate, will +do my duty. I shall tell Mr Thumble that he must go over to +Hogglestock, and arrange for the duties of the parish."</p> + +<p>"I desire that you will do no such thing," said the bishop, now again +looking up at her.</p> + +<p>"You may be sure that I shall," said Mrs Proudie, and then she left +the room.</p> + +<p>He did not even yet suppose that she would go about this work at +once. The condition of his mind was in truth bad, and was becoming +worse, probably, from day to day; but still he did make his +calculations about things, and now reflected that it would be +sufficient if he spoke to his chaplain to-morrow about Mr Crawley's +letter. Since the terrible scene that Dr Tempest had witnessed, he +had never been able to make up his mind as to what great step he +would take, but he had made up his mind that some great step was +necessary. There were moments in which he thought that he would +resign his bishopric. For such resignation, without acknowledged +incompetence on the score of infirmity, the precedents were very few; +but even if there were no precedents, it would be better to do that +than to remain where he was. Of course there would be disgrace. But +then it would be disgrace from which he could hide himself. Now there +was equal disgrace; and he could not hide himself. And then such a +measure as that would bring punishment where punishment was due. It +would bring his wife to the ground,—her who had brought him to the +ground. The suffering should not be all his own. When she found that +her income, and her palace, and her position were all gone, then +perhaps she might repent the evil that she had done him. Now, when he +was left alone, his mind went back to this, and he did not think of +taking immediate measures,—measures on that very day,—to prevent +the action of Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>But Mrs Proudie did take immediate steps. Mr Thumble was at this +moment in the palace waiting for instructions. It was he who had +brought Mr Crawley's letter to Mrs Proudie, and she now returned to +him with that letter in her hand. The reader will know what was the +result. Mr Thumble was sent off to Hogglestock at once on the +bishop's old cob, and,—as will be remembered, fell into trouble on +the road. Late in the afternoon, he entered the palace yard having +led the cob by the bridle the whole way home from Hogglestock.</p> + +<p>Some hour or two before Mr Thumble's return Mrs Proudie returned to +her husband, thinking it better to let him know what she had done. +She resolved to be very firm with him, but at the same time she +determined not to use harsh language if it could be avoided. "My +dear," she said, "I have arranged with Mr Thumble." She found him on +this occasion sitting at his desk with papers before him, with a pen +in his hand; and she could see at a glance that nothing had been +written on the paper. What would she have thought had she known that +when he placed the sheet before him he was proposing to consult the +archbishop as to the propriety of his resignation! He had not, +however, progressed so far as to write even the date of his letter.</p> + +<p>"You have done what?" said he, throwing down the pen.</p> + +<p>"I have arranged with Mr Thumble as to going out to Hogglestock," she +said firmly. "Indeed he has gone already." Then the bishop jumped up +from his seat, and rang the bell with violence. "What are you going +to do?" said Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>"I am going to depart from here," he said. "I will not stay here to +be the mark of scorn for all men's fingers. I will resign the +diocese."</p> + +<p>"You cannot do that," said his wife.</p> + +<p>"I can try, at any rate," said he. Then the servant entered. "John," +said he, addressing the man, "let Mr Thumble know the moment he +returns to the palace I wish to see him here. Perhaps he may not come +to the palace. In that case let word be sent to his house."</p> + +<p>Mrs Proudie allowed the man to go before she addressed her husband +again. "What do you mean to say to Mr Thumble when you see him?"</p> + +<p>"That is nothing to you."</p> + +<p>She came up to him and put her hand upon his shoulder, and spoke to +him very gently. "Tom," she said, "is that the way in which you speak +to your wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is. You have driven me to it. Why have you taken upon +yourself to send that man to Hogglestock?"</p> + +<p>"Because it was right to do so. I came to you for instructions, and +you would give none."</p> + +<p>"I should have given what instructions I pleased in proper time. +Thumble shall not go to Hogglestock next Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Who shall go, then?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind. Nobody. It does not matter to you. If you will leave me +now I shall be obliged to you. There will be an end of all this very +soon,—very soon."</p> + +<p>Mrs Proudie after this stood for a while thinking what she would say; +but she left the room without uttering another word. As she looked at +him a hundred different thoughts came into her mind. She had loved +him dearly, and she loved him still; but she knew now,—at this +moment felt absolutely sure,—that by him she was hated! In spite of +all her roughness and temper, Mrs Proudie was in this like other +women,—that she would fain have been loved had it been possible. She +had always meant to serve him. She was conscious of that; conscious +also in a way that, although she had been industrious, although she +had been faithful, although she was clever, yet she had failed. At +the bottom of her heart she knew that she had been a bad wife. And +yet she had meant to be a pattern wife! She had meant to be a good +Christian; but she had so exercised her Christianity that not a soul +in the world loved her, or would endure her presence if it could be +avoided! She had sufficient insight to the minds and feelings of +those around her to be aware of this. And now her husband had told +her that her tyranny to him was so overbearing that he must throw up +his great position, and retire to an obscurity that would be +exceptionally disgraceful to them both, because he could no longer +endure the public disgrace which her conduct brought upon him in his +high place before the world! Her heart was too full for speech; and +she left him, very quietly closing the door behind her.</p> + +<p>She was preparing to go up to her chamber, with her hand on the +banisters and with her foot on the stairs, when she saw the servant +who had answered the bishop's bell. "John," she said, "when Mr +Thumble comes to the palace, let me see him before he goes to my +lord."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," said John, who well understood the nature of these +quarrels between his master and his mistress. But the commands of the +mistress were still paramount among the servants, and John proceeded +on his mission with the view of accomplishing Mrs Proudie's behests. +Then Mrs Proudie went upstairs to her chamber, and locked her door.</p> + +<p>Mr Thumble returned to Barchester that day, leading the broken-down +cob; and a dreadful walk he had. He was not good at walking, and +before he came near Barchester had come to entertain a violent hatred +for the beast he was leading. The leading of a horse that is tired, +or in pain, or even stiff in his limbs, is not pleasant work. The +brute will not accommodate his paces to the man, and will contrive to +make his head very heavy on the bridle. And he will not walk on the +part of the road which the man intends for him, but will lean against +the man, and will make himself altogether disagreeable. It may be +understood, therefore, that Mr Thumble was not in a good humour when +he entered the palace yard. Nor was he altogether quiet in his mind +as to the injury which he had done to the animal. "It was the brute's +fault," said Mr Thumble. "It comes generally of not knowing how to +ride 'em," said the groom. For Mr Thumble, though he often had a +horse out of the episcopal stables, was not ready with his shillings +to the man who waited upon him with the steed.</p> + +<p>He had not, however, come to any satisfactory understanding +respecting the broken knees when the footman from the palace told him +that he was wanted. It was in vain that Mr Thumble pleaded that he +was nearly dead with fatigue, that he had walked all the way from +Hogglestock and must go home to change his clothes. John was +peremptory with him, insisting that he must wait first upon Mrs +Proudie and then upon the bishop. Mr Thumble might perhaps have +turned a deaf ear to the latter command, but the former was one which +he felt himself bound to obey. So he entered the palace, rather +cross, very much soiled as to his outer man; and in this condition +went up a certain small staircase which was familiar to him, to a +small parlour which adjoined Mrs Proudie's room, and there awaited +the arrival of the lady. That he should be required to wait some +quarter of an hour was not surprising to him; but when half an hour +was gone, and he remembered himself of his own wife at home, and the +dinner which he had not yet eaten, he ventured to ring the bell. Mrs +Proudie's own maid, Mrs Draper by name, came to him and said that she +had knocked twice at Mrs Proudie's door and would knock again. Two +minutes after that she returned, running into the room with her arms +extended, and exclaiming, "Oh heavens, sir; mistress is dead!" Mr +Thumble, hardly knowing what he was about, followed the woman into +the bedroom, and there he found himself standing awe-struck before +the corpse of her who had so lately been the presiding spirit of the +palace.</p> + +<p>The body was still resting on its legs, leaning against the end of +the side of the bed, while one of the arms was close clasped round +the bed-post. The mouth was rigidly closed, but the eyes were open as +thought staring at him. Nevertheless there could be no doubt from the +first glance that the woman was dead. He went up close to it, but did +not dare to touch it. There was no one there as yet but he and Mrs +Draper;—no one else knew what had happened.</p> + +<p>"It's her heart," said Mrs Draper.</p> + +<p>"Did she suffer from heart complaint?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"We suspected it, sir, though nobody knew it. She was very shy of +talking about herself."</p> + +<p>"We must send for the doctor at once," said Mr Thumble. "We had +better touch nothing till he is here." Then they retreated and the +door was locked.</p> + +<p>In ten minutes everybody in the house knew it except the bishop; and +in twenty minutes the nearest apothecary with his assistant were in +the room, and the body had been properly laid upon the bed. Even then +the husband had not been told,—did not know either his relief or his +loss. It was now past seven, which was the usual hour for dinner at +the palace, and it was probable that he would come out of his room +among the servants, if he were not summoned. When it was proposed to +Mr Thumble that he should go in to him and tell him, he positively +declined, saying that the sight which he had just seen and the +exertions of the day together, had so unnerved him, that he had not +physical strength for the task. The apothecary, who had been summoned +in a hurry, had escaped, probably being equally unwilling to be the +bearer of such a communication. The duty therefore fell to Mrs +Draper, and under the pressing instance of the other servants she +descended to her master's room. Had it not been that the hour of +dinner had come, so that the bishop could not have been left much +longer to himself, the evil time would have been still postponed.</p> + +<p>She went very slowly along the passage, and was just going to pause +ere she reached the room, when the door was opened and the bishop +stood close before her. It was easy to be seen that he was cross. His +hands and face were unwashed and his face was haggard. In these days +he would not even go through the ceremony of dressing himself before +dinner. "Mrs Draper," he said, "why don't they tell me that dinner is +ready? Are they going to give me any dinner?" She stood a moment +without answering him, while the tears streamed down her face. "What +is the matter?" said he. "Has your mistress sent you here?"</p> + +<p>"Oh laws!" said Mrs Draper,—and she put out her hands to support him +if such support should be necessary.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" he demanded angrily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my lord;—bear it like a Christian. Mistress isn't no more." He +leaned back against the door-post and she took hold of him by the +arm. "It was the heart, my lord. Dr Filgrave hisself has not been +yet; but that's what it was." The bishop did not say a word, but +walked back to his chair before the fire.</p> + + +<p><a name="c67" id="c67"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVII</h3> +<h3>In Memoriam<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The bishop when he had heard of the tidings of his wife's death +walked back to his seat over the fire, and Mrs Draper, the +housekeeper, came and stood over him without speaking. Thus she stood +for ten minutes looking down at him and listening. But there was no +sound; not a word, nor a moan, nor a sob. It was as though he also +were dead, but that a slight irregular movement of his fingers on the +top of his bald head, told her that his mind and body were still +active. "My lord," she said at last, "would you wish to see the +doctor when he comes?" She spoke very low and he did not answer her. +Then, after another minute of silence, she asked the same question +again.</p> + +<p>"What doctor?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Dr Filgrave. We sent for him. Perhaps he is here now. Shall I go and +see, my lord?" Mrs Draper found that her position there was weary and +she wished to escape. Anything on his behalf requiring trouble or +work she would have done willingly; but she could not stand there for +ever watching the motion of his fingers.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must see him," said the bishop. Mrs Draper took this as +an order for her departure and crept silently out of the room, +closing the door behind her with the long protracted elaborate click +which is always produced by an attempt at silence on such occasions. +He did not care for noise or for silence. Had she slammed the door he +would not have regarded it. A wonderful silence had come upon him +which for the time almost crushed him. He would never hear that +well-known voice again!</p> + +<p>He was free now. Even in his misery,—for +he was very miserable,—he +could not refrain from telling himself that. No one could now press +uncalled-for into his study, contradict him in the presence of those +before whom he was bound to be authoritative, and rob him of all his +dignity. There was no one else of whom he was afraid. She had at +least kept him out of the hands of other tyrants. He was now his own +master, and there was a feeling,—I may not call it of relief, for as +yet there was more of pain in it than of satisfaction,—a feeling as +though he had escaped from an old trouble at a terrible cost of which +he could not as yet calculate the amount. He knew that he might now +give up all idea of writing to the archbishop.</p> + +<p>She had in some ways, and at certain periods of his life, been very +good to him. She had kept his money for him and made things go +straight, when they had been poor. His interests had always been her +interests. Without her he would never have been a bishop. So, at +least, he told himself now, and so told himself probably with truth. +She had been very careful of his children. She had never been idle. +She had never been fond of pleasure. She had neglected no +acknowledged duty. He did not doubt that she was now on her way to +heaven. He took his hands from his head, and clasping them together, +said a little prayer. It may be doubted whether he quite knew for +what he was praying. The idea of praying for her soul, now that she +was dead, would have scandalised him. He certainly was not praying +for his own soul. I think he was praying that God might save him from +being glad that his wife was dead.</p> + +<p>But she was dead;—and, as it were, in a moment! He had not stirred +out of that room since she had been there with him. Then there had +been angry words between them,—perhaps more determined enmity on his +part than ever had before existed; and they had parted for the last +time with bitter animosity. But he told himself that he had certainly +been right in what he had done then. He thought he had been right +then. And so his mind went back to the Crawley and Thumble question, +and he tried to alleviate the misery which that last interview with +his wife now created by assuring himself that he at least had been +justified in what he had done.</p> + +<p>But yet his thoughts were very tender to her. Nothing reopens the +springs of love so fully as absence, and no absence so thoroughly as +that which must needs be endless. We want that which we have not; and +especially that which we can never have. She had told him in the very +last moments of her presence with him that he was wishing that she +were dead, and he had made her no reply. At the moment he had felt, +with savage anger, that such was his wish. Her words had now come to +pass, and he was a widower,—and he assured himself that he would +give all that he possessed in the world to bring her back again.</p> + +<p>Yes, he was a widower, and he might do as he pleased. The tyrant was +gone, and he was free. The tyrant was gone, and the tyranny had +doubtless been very oppressive. Who had suffered as he had done? But +in thus being left without his tyrant he was wretchedly desolate. +Might it not be that the tyranny had been good for him?—that the +Lord had known best what wife was fit for him? Then he thought of a +story which he had read,—and had well marked as he was reading,—of +some man who had been terribly afflicted by his wife, whose wife had +starved him and beaten him and reviled him; and yet this man had been +able to thank God for having mortified him in the flesh. Might it not +be that the mortification which he himself had doubtless suffered in +his flesh had been intended for his welfare, and had been very good +for him? But if this were so, it might be that the mortification was +now removed because the Lord knew that his servant had been +sufficiently mortified. He had not been starved or beaten, but the +mortification had been certainly severe. Then there came words—into +his mind, not into his mouth—"The Lord sent the thorn, and the Lord +has taken it away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." After that he +was very angry with himself, and tried to pray that he might be +forgiven. While he was so striving there came a low knock at the +door, and Mrs Draper again entered the room.</p> + +<p>"Dr Filgrave, my lord, was not at home," said Mrs Draper; "but he +will be sent the very moment he arrives."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Mrs Draper."</p> + +<p>"But, my lord, will you not come for your dinner? A little soup, or a +morsel of something to eat, and a glass of wine, will enable your +lordship to bear it better." He allowed Mrs Draper to persuade him, +and followed her into the dining-room. "Do not go, Mrs Draper," he +said; "I would rather that you should stay with me." So Mrs Draper +stayed with him, and administered to his wants. He was desirous of +being seen by as few eyes as possible in these first moments of his +freedom.</p> + +<p>He saw Dr Filgrave twice, both before and after the doctor had been +upstairs. There was no doubt, Dr Filgrave said, that it was as Mrs +Draper had surmised. The poor lady was suffering, and had for years +been suffering, from heart-complaint. To her husband she had never +said a word on the subject. To Mrs Draper a word had been said now +and again,—a word when some moment of fear would come, when some +sharp stroke of agony would tell of danger. But Mrs Draper had kept +the secret of her mistress, and none of the family had known that +there was aught to be feared. Dr Filgrave, indeed, did tell the +bishop that he had dreaded all along exactly that which had happened. +He had said the same to Mr Rerechild, the surgeon, when they two had +had a consultation at the palace on the occasion of a somewhat +alarming birth of a grandchild. But he mixed up this information with +so much medical Latin, and was so pompous over it, and the bishop was +so anxious to be rid of him, that his words did not have much effect. +What did it all matter? The thorn was gone, and the wife was dead, +and the widower must balance his gain and loss as best he might.</p> + +<p>He slept well, but when he woke in the morning the dreariness of his +loneliness was very strong on him. He must do something, and must see +somebody, but he felt that he did not know how to bear himself in his +new position. He must send of course for his chaplain, and tell his +chaplain to open all letters and to answer them for a week. Then he +remembered how many of his letters in days of yore had been opened +and answered by the helpmate who had just gone from him. Since Dr +Tempest's visit he had insisted that the palace letter-bag should +always be brought in the first instance to him,—and this had been +done, greatly to the annoyance of his wife. In order that it might be +done the bishop had been up every morning an hour before his usual +time; and everybody in the household had known why it was so. He +thought of this now as the bag was brought to him on the first +morning of his freedom. He could have it where he pleased +now;—either in his bedroom or left for him untouched on the +breakfast-table till he should go to it. "Blessed be the name of the +Lord," he said as he thought of all this; but he did not stop to +analyse what he was saying. On this morning he would not enjoy his +liberty, but desired that the letter-bag might be taken to Mr +Snapper, the chaplain.</p> + +<p>The news of Mrs Proudie's death had spread all over Barchester on the +evening of its occurrence, and had been received with that feeling of +distant awe which is always accompanied by some degree of pleasurable +sensation. There was no one in Barchester to lament a mother, or a +sister, or a friend who was really loved. There were those, +doubtless, who regretted the woman's death,—and even some who +regretted it without any feeling of personal damage done to +themselves. There had come to be around Mrs Proudie a party who +thought as she thought on church matters, and such people had lost +their head, and thereby their strength. And she had been staunch to +her own party, preferring bad tea from a low-church grocer, to good +tea from a grocer who went to the ritualistic church or to no church +at all. And it is due to her to say that she did not forget those who +were true to her,—looking after them mindfully where looking after +might be profitable, and fighting their battles where fighting might +be more serviceable. I do not think that the appetite for breakfast +of any man or woman in Barchester was disturbed by the news of Mrs +Proudie's death, but there were some who felt that a trouble had +fallen on them.</p> + +<p>Tidings of the catastrophe reached Hiram's Hospital on the evening of +its occurrence,—Hiram's Hospital, where dwelt Mr and Mrs Quiverful +with all their children. Now Mrs Quiverful owed a debt of gratitude +to Mrs Proudie, having been placed in her present comfortable home by +that lady's patronage. Mrs Quiverful perhaps understood the character +of the deceased woman, and expressed her opinion respecting it, as +graphically did any one in Barchester. There was the natural surprise +felt at the Warden's Lodge in the Hospital when the tidings were +first received there, and the Quiverful family was at first too full +of dismay, regrets, and surmises to be able to give themselves +impartially to criticism. But on the following morning, conversation +at the breakfast-table naturally referring to the great loss which +the bishop had sustained, Mrs Quiverful thus pronounced her opinion +of her friend's character: "You'll find that he'll feel it, Q," she +said to her husband, in answer to some sarcastic remark made by him +as to the removal of the thorn. "He'll feel it, though she was almost +too many for him while she was alive."</p> + +<p>"I daresay he'll feel it at first," said Quiverful; "but I think +he'll be more comfortable than he has been."</p> + +<p>"Of course he'll feel it, and go on feeling it till he dies, if he's +the man I take him to be. You're not to think that there has been no +love because there used to be some words, that he'll find himself the +happier because he can do things more as he pleases. She was a great help +to him, and he must have known that she was, in spite of the sharpness +of her tongue. No doubt her tongue was sharp. No doubt she was sharp. +No doubt she was upsetting. And she could make herself a fool too in +her struggles to have everything her own way. But, Q, there were +worse women than Mrs Proudie. She was never one of your idle ones, +and I'm quite sure that no man or woman ever heard her say a word +against her husband behind his back."</p> + +<p>"All the same, she gave him a terribly bad life of it, if all is true +that we hear."</p> + +<p>"There are men who must have what you call a terribly bad life of it, +whatever way it goes with them. The bishop is weak, and he wants +somebody near him to be strong. She was strong,—perhaps too strong; +but he had his advantage out of it. After all I don't know that his +life has been so terribly bad. I daresay he's had everything very +comfortable about him. And a man ought to be grateful for that, +though very few men ever are."</p> + +<p>Mr Quiverful's predecessor at the Hospital, old Mr Harding, whose +halcyon days in Barchester had been passed before the coming of the +Proudies, was in bed playing cat's-cradle with Posy seated on the +counterpane, when the tidings of Mrs Proudie's death were brought to +him by Mrs Baxter. "Oh, sir," said Mrs Baxter, seating herself on a +chair by the bed-side. Mr Harding liked Mrs Baxter to sit down, +because he was almost sure on such occasions to have the advantage of +a prolonged conversation.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Mrs Baxter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter?" And the old man attempted to raise himself +in his bed.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't frighten grandpa," said Posy.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; and there isn't nothing to frighten him. There isn't +indeed, Mr Harding. They're all well at Plumstead, and when I heard +from the missus at Venice, everything was going on well."</p> + +<p>"But what is it, Mrs Baxter?"</p> + +<p>"God forgive all her sins—Mrs Proudie ain't no more." Now there had +been a terrible feud between the palace and the deanery for years, in +carrying on which the persons of the opposed households were wont to +express themselves with eager animosity. Mrs Baxter and Mrs Draper +never spoke to each other. The two coachmen each longed for an +opportunity to take the other before a magistrate for some breach of +the law of the road in driving. The footmen abused each other, and +the grooms occasionally fought. The masters and mistresses contented +themselves with simple hatred. Therefore it was not surprising that +Mrs Baxter in speaking of the death of Mrs Proudie, should remember +first her sins.</p> + +<p>"Mrs Proudie dead!" said the old man.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, she is, Mr Harding," said Mrs Baxter, putting both her hands +together piously. "We're just grass, ain't we, sir! and dust and clay +and flowers of the field?" Whether Mrs Proudie had most partaken of +the clayey nature or of the flowery nature, Mrs Baxter did not stop +to consider.</p> + +<p>"Mrs Proudie dead!" said Posy, with a solemnity that was all her own. +"Then she won't scold the poor bishop any more."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; she won't scold anybody any more; and it will be a +blessing for some, I must say. Everybody is always so considerate in +this house, Miss Posy, that we none of us know nothing about what +that is."</p> + +<p>"Dead!" said Mr Harding again. "I think, if you please, Mrs Baxter, +you shall leave me for little time, and take Miss Posy with you." He +had been in the city of Barchester some fifty years, and here was one +who might have been his daughter, who had come there scarcely ten +years since, and who had now gone before him! He had never loved Mrs +Proudie. Perhaps he had come as near to disliking Mrs Proudie as he +had ever come to disliking any person. Mrs Proudie had wounded him in +every part that was most sensitive. It would be long to tell, nor +need it be told now, how she had ridiculed his cathedral work, how +she had made nothing of him, how she had despised him, always +manifesting her contempt plainly. He had been even driven to rebuke +her, and it had perhaps been the only personal rebuke which he had +ever uttered in Barchester. But now she was gone; and he thought of +her simply as an active pious woman, who had been taken away from her +work before her time. And for the bishop, no idea ever entered Mr +Harding's mind as to the removal of a thorn. The man had lost his +life's companion at that time of life when such a companion is most +needed; and Mr Harding grieved for him with sincerity.</p> + +<p>The news went out to Plumstead Episcopi by the postman, and happened +to reach the archdeacon as he was talking to his sexton at the little +gate leading into the churchyard. "Mrs Proudie dead!" he almost +shouted, as the postman notified the fact to him. "Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"It be so for zartain, yer reverence," said the postman, who was +proud of his news.</p> + +<p>"Heavens!" ejaculated the archdeacon, and then hurried in to his +wife. "My dear," he said—and as he spoke he could hardly deliver +himself of the words, so eager was he to speak them—"who do you +think is dead? Gracious heavens! Mrs Proudie is dead!" Mrs Grantly +dropped from her hand the teaspoonful of tea that was just going into +the pot, and repeated her husband's words. "Mrs Proudie dead?" There +was a pause, during which they looked into each other's faces. "My +dear, I don't believe it," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>But she did believe it very shortly. There were no prayers at +Plumstead rectory that morning. The archdeacon immediately went out +into the village, and soon obtained sufficient evidence of the truth +of that which the postman had told him. Then he rushed back to his +wife. "It's true," he said. "It's quite true. She's dead. There's no +doubt about that. She's dead. It was last night about seven. That was +when they found her, at least, and she may have died about an hour +before. Filgrave says not more than an hour."</p> + +<p>"And how did she die?"</p> + +<p>"Heart-complaint. She was standing up, taking hold of the bedstead, +and so they found her." Then there was a pause, during which the +archdeacon sat down to his breakfast. "I wonder how he felt when he +heard it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he was terribly shocked."</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt he was shocked. Any man would be shocked. But when you +come to think of it, what a relief!"</p> + +<p>"How can you speak of it in that way?" said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"How am I to speak of it in any other way?" said the archdeacon. "Of +course I shouldn't go and say it out in the street."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you ought to say it anywhere," said Mrs Grantly. "The +poor man no doubt feels about his wife in the same way that anybody +else would."</p> + +<p>"And if any other poor man has got such a wife as she was, you may be +quite sure that he would be glad to be rid of her. I don't say that +he wished her to die, or that he would have done anything to contrive +her death<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Gracious, archdeacon; do, pray, hold your tongue."</p> + +<p>"But it stands to reason that her going will be a great relief to +him. What has she done for him? She has made him contemptible to +everybody in the diocese by her interference, and his life has been a +burden to him through her violence."</p> + +<p>"Is that the way you carry out your proverb of De mortuis?" asked Mrs +Grantly.</p> + +<p>"The proverb of De mortuis is founded on humbug. Humbug out of doors +is necessary. It would not do for you and me to go into the High +Street just now and say what we think about Mrs Proudie; but I don't +suppose that kind of thing need to be kept up in here, between you +and me. She was an uncomfortable woman,—so uncomfortable that I +cannot believe that any one will regret her. Dear me! Only to think +that she has gone! You may as well give me my tea."</p> + +<p>I do not think that Mrs Grantly's opinion differed much from that +expressed by her husband, or that she was, in truth, the least +offended by the archdeacon's plain speech. But it must be remembered +that there was probably no house in the diocese in which Mrs Proudie +had been so thoroughly hated as she had been at the Plumstead +rectory. There had been hatred in the deanery; but the hatred at the +deanery had been mild in comparison with the hatred at Plumstead. The +archdeacon was a sound friend; but he was also a sound enemy. From +the very first arrival of the Proudies at Barchester, Mrs Proudie had +thrown down her gauntlet to him, and he had not been slow in picking +it up. The war had been internecine, and each had given the other +terrible wounds. It had been understood that there should be no +quarter, and there had been none. His enemy was now dead, and the +archdeacon could not bring himself to adopt before his wife the +namby-pamby everyday decency of speaking well of one of whom he had +ever thought ill, or of expressing regret when no regret could be +felt. "May all her sins be forgiven her," said Mrs Grantly. "Amen," +said the archdeacon. There was something in the tone of his Amen +which thoroughly implied that it was uttered only on the +understanding that her departure from the existing world was to be +regarded as an unmitigated good, and that she should, at any rate, +never come back again to Barchester.</p> + +<p>When Lady Lufton heard the tidings, she was not so bold in speaking +of it as was her friend the archdeacon. "Mrs Proudie dead!" she said +to her daughter-in-law. This was some hours after the news had +reached the house, and when the fact of the poor lady's death had +been fully recognised. "What will he do without her?"</p> + +<p>"The same as other men do," said the young Lady Lufton.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, he is not the same as other men. He is not at all like +other men. He is so weak that he cannot walk without a stick to lean +upon. No doubt she was a virago, a woman who could not control her +temper for a moment! No doubt she had led him a terrible life! I have +often pitied him with all my heart. But, nevertheless, she was useful +to him. I suppose she was useful to him. I can hardly believe that +Mrs Proudie is dead. Had he gone, it would have seemed so much more +natural. Poor woman. I daresay she had her good points." The reader +will be pleased to remember that the Luftons had ever been strong +partisans on the side of the Grantlys.</p> + +<p>The news made its way even to Hogglestock on the same day. Mrs +Crawley, when she heard it, went out after her husband, who was in +the school. "Dead!" said he, in answer to her whisper. "Do you tell +me that the woman is dead?" Then Mrs Crawley explained that the +tidings were credible. "May God forgive her all her sins," said Mr +Crawley. "She was a violent woman, certainly, and I think that she +misunderstood her duties; but I do not say that she was a bad woman. +I am inclined to think that she was earnest in her endeavours to do +good." It never occurred to Mr Crawley that he and his affair had, in +truth, been the cause of her death.</p> + +<p>It was thus that she was spoken of for a few days; and then men and +women ceased to speak much of her, and began to talk of the bishop +instead. A month had not passed before it was surmised that a man so +long accustomed to the comforts of married life would marry again; +and even then one lady connected with low-church clergymen in and +around the city was named as a probable successor to the great lady +who was gone. For myself, I am inclined to think that the bishop will +for the future be content to lean upon his chaplain.</p> + +<p>The monument that was put up to our friend's memory in one of the +side aisles of the choir of the cathedral was supposed to be designed +and executed in good taste. There was a broken column, and on the +column simply the words "My beloved wife!" Then there was a slab by +the column, bearing Mrs Proudie's name, with the date of her life and +death. Beneath this was the common inscription,—</p> + + +<div class="center"> +<span class="large"><i>Requiescat in pace.</i></span> +</div> + + +<p><a name="c68" id="c68"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVIII</h3> +<h3>The Obstinacy of Mr Crawley<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Dr Tempest, when he heard the news, sent immediately to Mr Robarts, +begging him to come over to Silverbridge. But this message was not +occasioned solely by the death of Mrs Proudie. Dr Tempest had also +heard that Mr Crawley had submitted himself to the bishop, that +instant advantage,—and, as Dr Tempest thought, unfair +advantage,—had been taken of Mr Crawley's submission, and that the +pernicious Mr Thumble had been at once sent over to Hogglestock. Had +these palace doings with reference to Mr Crawley been unaccompanied +by the catastrophe which had happened, the doctor, much as he might +have regretted them, would probably have felt that there was nothing +to be done. He could not in such case have prevented Mr Thumble's +journey to Hogglestock on the next Sunday, and certainly he could not +have softened the heart of the presiding genius at the palace. But +things were very different now. The presiding genius was gone. +Everybody at the palace would for a while be weak and vacillating. +Thumble would be then thoroughly cowed; and it might at any rate be +possible to make some movement in Mr Crawley's favour. Dr Tempest, +therefore, sent for Mr Robarts.</p> + +<p>"I'm giving you a great deal of trouble, Robarts," said the doctor; +"but then you are so much younger than I am, and I've an idea that +you would do more for this poor man than any one else in the +diocese." Mr Robarts of course declared that he did not begrudge his +trouble, and that he would do anything in his power for the poor man. +"I think that you should see him again, and that you should then see +Thumble also. I don't know whether you can condescend to be civil to +Thumble. I could not."</p> + +<p>"I am not quite sure that incivility would not be more efficacious," +said Mr Robarts.</p> + +<p>"Very likely. There are men who are deaf as adders to courtesy, but +who are compelled to obedience at once by ill-usage. Very likely +Thumble is one of them; but of that you will be the best judge +yourself. I would see Crawley first, and get his consent."</p> + +<p>"That's the difficulty."</p> + +<p>"Then I should go on without his consent, and I would see Thumble and +the bishop's chaplain, Snapper. I think you might manage just at this +moment, when they will all be a little abashed and perplexed by this +woman's death, to arrange that simply nothing shall be done. The +great thing will be that Crawley should go on with the duty till the +assizes. If it should happen that he goes into Barchester, is +acquitted, and comes back again, the whole thing will be over, and +there will be no further interference in the parish. If I were you, I +think I would try it." Mr Robarts said that he would try it. "I +daresay Mr Crawley will be a little stiff-necked with you."</p> + +<p>"He will be very stiff-necked with me," said Mr Robarts.</p> + +<p>"But I can hardly think that he will throw away the only means he has +of supporting his wife and children, when he finds that there can be +no occasion for his doing so. I do not suppose that any person wishes +him to throw up his work now that the poor woman has gone."</p> + +<p>Mr Crawley had been almost in good spirits since the last visit which +Mr Thumble had made him. It seemed as though the loss of everything +in the world was in some way satisfactory to him. He had now given up +his living by his own doing, and had after a fashion acknowledged his +guilt by this act. He had proclaimed to all around him that he did +not think himself to be any longer fit to perform the sacred +functions of his office. He spoke of his trial as though a verdict +against him must be the result. He knew that in going to prison he +would leave his wife and children dependent on the charity of their +friends,—on charity which they must condescend to accept, though he +could not condescend to ask it. And yet he was able to carry himself +now with a greater show of fortitude than had been within his power +when the extent of his calamity was more doubtful. I must not ask the +reader to suppose that he was cheerful. To have been cheerful under +such circumstances would have been inhuman. But he carried his head +on high, and walked firmly, and gave his orders at home with a clear +voice. His wife, who was necessarily more despondent than ever, +wondered at him,—but wondered in silence. It certainly seemed as +though the very extremity of ill-fortune was good for him. And he was +very diligent with his school, passing the greater part of the +morning with the children. Mr Thumble had told him that he would come +on Sunday, and that he would then take charge of the parish. Up to +the coming of Mr Thumble he would do everything in the parish that +could be done by a clergyman with a clear spirit and a free heart. Mr +Thumble should not find that spiritual weeds had grown rank in the +parish because of his misfortunes.</p> + +<p>Mrs Proudie had died on the Tuesday,—that having been the day of Mr +Thumble's visit to Hogglestock,—and Mr Robarts had gone over to +Silverbridge, in answer to Dr Tempest's invitation, on the Thursday. +He had not, therefore, the command of much time, it being his express +object to prevent the appearance of Mr Thumble at Hogglestock on the +next Sunday. He had gone to Silverbridge by railway, and had, +therefore, been obliged to postpone his visit to Mr Crawley till the +next day; but early on the Friday morning he rode over to +Hogglestock. That he did not arrive there with a broken-kneed horse, +the reader may be quite sure. In all matters of that sort, Mr Robarts +was ever above reproach. He rode a good horse, and drove a neat gig, +and was always well-dressed. On this account Mr Crawley, though he +really liked Mr Robarts, and was thankful to him for many kindnesses, +could never bear his presence with perfect equanimity. Robarts was no +scholar, was not a great preacher, had obtained no celebrity as a +churchman,—had, in fact, done nothing to merit great reward; and yet +everything had been given to him with an abundant hand. Within the +last twelvemonth his wife had inherited Mr Crawley did not care to +know how many thousand pounds. And yet Mr Robarts had won all that he +possessed by being a clergyman. Was it possible that Mr Crawley +should regard such a man with equanimity? Robarts rode over with a +groom behind him,—really taking the groom because he knew that Mr +Crawley would have no one to hold his horse for him;—and the groom +was the source of great offence. He come upon Mr Crawley standing at +the school door, and stopping at once, jumped off his nag. There was +something in the way in which he sprang out of the saddle and threw +the reins to the man, which was not clerical in Mr Crawley's eyes. No +man could be so quick in the matter of a horse who spent as many +hours with the poor and with the children as should be spent by a +parish clergyman. It might be probable that Mr Robarts had never +stolen twenty pounds,—might never be accused of so disgraceful a +crime,—but, nevertheless, Mr Crawley had his own ideas, and made his +own comparisons.</p> + +<p>"Crawley" said Robarts, "I am so glad to find you at home."</p> + +<p>"I am generally to be found in the parish," said the perpetual curate +of Hogglestock.</p> + +<p>"I know you are," said Robarts, who knew the man well, and cared +nothing for his friend's peculiarities when he felt his own withers +to be unwrung. "But you might have been down at Hoggle End with the +brickmakers, and then I should have had to go after you."</p> + +<p>"I should have grieved—" began Crawley; but Robarts interrupted him +at once.</p> + +<p>"Let us go for a walk, and I'll leave the man with the horses. I've +something special to say to you, and I can say it better out here +than in the house. Grace is quite well, and sends her love. She is +growing to look so beautiful!"</p> + +<p>"I hope she may grow in grace with God," said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"She's as good a girl as I ever knew. By-the-by, you had Henry +Grantly over here the other day?"</p> + +<p>"Major Grantly, whom I cannot name without expressing my esteem for +him, did do us the honour of calling upon us not very long since. If +it be with reference to him that you have taken this +trouble<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"No, no; not at all. I'll allow him and the ladies to fight out that +battle. I've not the least doubt in the world how that will go. When +I'm told that she made a complete conquest of the archdeacon, there +cannot be a doubt about that."</p> + +<p>"A conquest of the archdeacon!"</p> + +<p>But Mr Robarts did not wish to have to explain anything further about +the archdeacon. "Were you not terribly shocked, Crawley," he asked, +"when you heard of the death of Mrs Proudie?"</p> + +<p>"It was sudden and very awful," said Mr Crawley. "Such deaths are +always shocking. Not more so, perhaps, as regards the wife of a +bishop, than with any other woman."</p> + +<p>"Only we happened to know her."</p> + +<p>"No doubt the finite and meagre nature of our feelings does prevent +us from extending our sympathies to those whom we have not seen in +the flesh. It should not be so, and would not with one who had +nurtured his heart with the proper care. And we are prone to permit +an evil worse than that to canker our regards and to foster and to +mar our solicitudes. Those who are in high station strike us more by +their joys and sorrows than do the poor and lowly. Were some young +duke's wife, wedded but the other day, to die, all England would put +on some show of mourning,—nay, would feel some true gleam of pity; +but nobody cares for the widowed brickmaker seated with his starving +infant on his cold hearth."</p> + +<p>"Of course we hear more of the big people," said Robarts.</p> + +<p>"Ay; and think more of them. But do not suppose, sir, that I complain +of this man or that woman because his sympathies, or hers, run out of +that course which my reason tells me they should hold. The man with +whom it would not be so would simply be a god among men. It is in his +perfection as a man that we recognise the divinity of Christ. It is +in the imperfection of men that we recognise our necessity for a +Christ. Yes, sir, the death of the poor lady at Barchester was very +sudden. I hope that my lord the bishop bears with becoming fortitude +the heavy misfortune. They say that he was a man much beholden to his +wife,—prone to lean upon her in his goings out and comings in. For +such a man such a loss is more dreadful perhaps than for another."</p> + +<p>"They say she led him a terrible life, you know."</p> + +<p>"I am not prone, sir, to believe much of what I hear about the +domesticities of other men, knowing how little any other man can know +of my own. And I have, methinks, observed a proneness in the world to +ridicule that dependence on a woman which every married man should +acknowledge in regard to the wife of his bosom, if he can trust her +as well as love her. When I hear jocose proverbs spoken as to men, +such as that in this house the grey mare is the better horse, or that +in that house the wife wears that garment which is supposed to denote +virile command, knowing that the joke is easy, and that meekness in a +man is more truly noble than a habit of stern authority, I do not +allow them to go far with me in influencing my judgment."</p> + +<p>So spoke Mr Crawley, who never permitted the slightest interference +with his own word in his own family, and who had himself been a +witness of one of those scenes between the bishop and his wife in +which the poor bishop had been so cruelly misused. But to Mr Crawley +the thing which he himself had seen under such circumstances was as +sacred as though it had come to him under the seal of confession. In +speaking of the bishop and Mrs Proudie,—nay, as far as was possible +in thinking of them,—he was bound to speak and to think as though he +had not witnessed that scene in the palace study.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose that there is much doubt about her real character," +said Robarts. "But you and I need not discuss that."</p> + +<p>"By no means. Such discussion would be both useless and unseemly."</p> + +<p>"And just at present there is something else that I specially want to +say to you. Indeed, I went to Silverbridge on the same subject +yesterday, and have come here expressly to have a little conversation +with you."</p> + +<p>"If it be about affairs of mine, Mr Robarts, I am indeed troubled in +spirit that so great labour should have fallen upon you."</p> + +<p>"Never mind my labour. Indeed your saying that is a nuisance to me, +because I hoped that by this time you would have understood that I +regard you as a friend, and that I think nothing any trouble that I +do for a friend. You position just now is so peculiar that it +requires a great deal of care."</p> + +<p>"No care can be of any avail to me."</p> + +<p>"There I disagree with you. You must excuse me, but I do; and so does +Dr Tempest. We think that you have been a little too much in a hurry +since he communicated to you the result of our first meeting."</p> + +<p>"As how, sir?"</p> + +<p>"It is, perhaps, hardly worth while for us to go into the whole +question; but that man, Thumble, must not come here on next Sunday."</p> + +<p>"I cannot say, Mr Robarts, that the Reverend Mr Thumble has +recommended himself to me strongly either by his outward symbols of +manhood or by such manifestation of his inward mental gifts as I have +succeeded in obtaining. But my knowledge of him has been so slight, +and has been acquired in a manner so likely to bias me prejudicially +against him, that I am inclined to think my opinion should go for +nothing. It is, however, the fact that the bishop has nominated him +to this duty; and that, as I have myself simply notified my desire to +be relieved from the care of the parish, on account of certain +unfitness of my own, I am the last man who should interfere with the +bishop in the choice of my temporary successor.</p> + +<p>"It was her choice, not his."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Mr Robarts, but I cannot allow that assertion to pass +unquestioned. I must say that I have adequate cause for believing +that he came here by his lordship's authority."</p> + +<p>"No doubt he did. Will you just listen to me for a moment? Ever since +this unfortunate affair of the cheque became known, Mrs Proudie has +been anxious to get you out of the parish. She was a violent woman, +and chose to take this matter up violently. Pray hear me out before +you interrupt me. There would have been no commission at all but for +her."</p> + +<p>"The commission is right and proper and just," said Mr Crawley, who +could not keep himself silent.</p> + +<p>"Very well. Let it be so. But Mr Thumble's coming over here is not +proper or right; and you may be sure the bishop does not wish it."</p> + +<p>"Let him send any other clergyman whom he may think more fitting," +said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"But we do not want him to send anybody."</p> + +<p>"Somebody must be sent, Mr Robarts."</p> + +<p>"No, not so. Let me go over and see Thumble and Snapper,—Snapper, +you know, is the domestic chaplain; and all that you need do is to go +on with your services on Sunday. If necessary, I will see the bishop. +I think you may be sure that I can manage it. If not, I will come +back to you." Mr Robarts paused for an answer, but it seemed for +awhile that all Mr Crawley's impatient desire to speak was over. He +walked on silently along the lane by his visitor's side, and when, +after some five or six minutes, Robarts stood still in the road, Mr +Crawley even then said nothing. "It cannot be but that you should be +anxious to keep the income of the parish for your wife and children," +said Mark Robarts.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I am anxious for my wife and children," Crawley answered.</p> + +<p>"Then let me do as I say. Why should you throw away a chance, even if +it be a bad one? But here the chance is all in your favour. Let me +manage it for you at Barchester."</p> + +<p>"Of course I am anxious for my wife and children," said Crawley, +repeating his words; "how anxious, I fancy no man can conceive who +has not been near enough to absolute want to know how terrible is its +approach when it threatens those who are weak and who are very dear! +But, Mr Robarts, you spoke just now of the chance of the thing,—the +chance of your arranging on my behalf that I should for a while +longer be left in the enjoyment of the freehold of my parish. It +seemeth to me that there should be no chance on such a subject; that +in the adjustment of so momentous a matter there should be a +consideration of right and wrong, and no consideration of aught +beside. I have been growing to feel, for some weeks past, that +circumstances,—whether through my own fault or not is an outside +question as to which I will not further delay you by offering even an +opinion,—that unfortunate circumstances have made me unfit to remain +here as guardian of the souls of the people of this parish. Then +there came to me the letter from Dr Tempest,—for which I am greatly +beholden to him,—strengthening me altogether in this view. What +could I do then, Mr Robarts? Could I allow myself to think of my wife +and my children when such a question as that was before me for +self-discussion?"</p> + +<p>"I would,—certainly," said Robarts.</p> + +<p>"No sir! Excuse the bluntness of my contradiction, but I feel assured +that in such emergency you would look solely to duty,—as by God's +help I will endeavour to do. Mr Robarts, there are many of us who in +many things are much worse than we believe ourselves to be. But in +other matters, and perhaps of larger moment, we can rise to ideas of +duty as the need for such ideas comes upon us. I say not this at all +as praising myself. I speak of men as I believe that they will be +found to be;—of yourself, of myself, and of others who strive to +live with clean hands and a clear conscience. I do not for a moment +think that you would retain your benefice at Framley if there had +come upon you, after much thought, an assured conviction that you +could not retain it without grievous injury to the souls of others +and grievous sin to your own. Wife and children, dear as they are to +you and to me,—as dear to me as to you,—fade from the sight when +the time comes for judgment on such a matter as that!" They were +standing quite still now, facing each other, and Crawley, as he spoke +with a low voice, looked straight into his friend's eyes, and kept +his hand firmly fixed on his friend's arm.</p> + +<p>"I cannot interfere further," said Robarts.</p> + +<p>"No,—you cannot interfere further." Robarts, when he told the story +of the interview to his wife that evening, declared that he had never +heard a voice so plaintively touching as was the voice of Mr Crawley +when he uttered those last words.</p> + +<p>They turned back to the servant and the house almost without a word, +and Robarts mounted without offering to see Mrs Crawley. Nor did Mr +Crawley ask him to do so. It was better now that Robarts should go. +"May God send you through all your troubles," said Mr Robarts.</p> + +<p>"Mr Robarts, I thank you warmly for your friendship," said Mr +Crawley. And then they parted. In about half an hour Mr Crawley +returned to the house. "Now for Pindar, Jane," he said, seating +himself at his old desk.</p> + + +<p><a name="c69" id="c69"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIX</h3> +<h3>Mr Crawley's Last Appearance in His Own Pulpit<br /> </h3> + + +<p>No word or message from Mr Crawley reached Barchester throughout the +week, and on the Sunday morning Mr Thumble was under a positive +engagement to go out to Hogglestock, and to perform the services of +the church. Dr Tempest had been quite right in saying that Mr Thumble +would be awed by the death of his patroness. Such was altogether the +case, and he was very anxious to escape from the task he had +undertaken at her instance, if it were possible. In the first place, +he had never been a favourite with the bishop himself, and had now, +therefore, nothing to expect in the diocese. The crusts from bits of +loaves and the morsels of broken fishes which had come his way had +all come from the bounty of Mrs Proudie. And then, as regarded this +special Hogglestock job, how was he to get paid for it? Whence, +indeed, was he to seek repayment for the actual money which he would +be out of pocket in finding his way to Hogglestock and back again? +But he could not get to speak to the bishop, nor could he induce any +one who had access to his lordship to touch upon the subject. Mr +Snapper avoided him as much as possible; and Mr Snapper, when he was +caught and interrogated, declared that he regarded the matter as +settled. Nothing could be in worse taste, Mr Snapper thought, than to +undo, immediately after the poor lady's death, work in the diocese +which had been arranged and done by her. Mr Snapper expressed his +opinion that Mr Thumble was bound to go out to Hogglestock; and, when +Mr Thumble declared petulantly that he would not stir a step out of +Barchester, Mr Snapper protested that Mr Thumble would have to answer +for it in this world and in the next if there were no services at +Hogglestock on that Sunday. On the Saturday evening Mr Thumble made a +desperate attempt to see the bishop, but was told by Mrs Draper that +the bishop had positively declined to see him. The bishop himself +probably felt unwilling to interfere with his wife's doings so soon +after her death! So Mr Thumble, with a heavy heart, went across to +the "Dragon of Wantly", and ordered a gig, resolving that the bill +should be sent in to the palace. He was not going to trust himself +again on the bishop's cob!</p> + +<p>Up to Saturday evening Mr Crawley did the work of the parish, and on +the Saturday evening he made an address to his parishioners from his +pulpit. He had given notice among the brickmakers and labourers that +he wished to say a few words to them in the schoolroom; but the +farmers also heard of this and came with their wives and daughters, +and all the brickmakers came, and most of the labourers were there, +so that there was no room for them in the schoolhouse. The +congregation was much larger than was customary even in the church. +"They will come," he said to his wife, "to hear a ruined man declare +his own ruin, but they will not come to hear the word of God." When +it was found that the persons assembled were too many for the +school-room, the meeting was adjourned to the church, and Mr Crawley +was forced to get into his pulpit. He said a short prayer, and then +he began his story.</p> + +<p>His story as he told it then shall not be repeated now, as the same +story has been told too often already in these pages. Surely it was a +singular story for a parish clergyman to tell himself in so solemn a +manner. That he had applied the cheque to his own purposes, and was +unable to account for the possession of it, was certain. He did not +know when or how he had got it. Speaking to them then in God's house +he told them that. He was to be tried by a jury, and all he could do +was to tell the jury the same. He would not expect the jury to +believe him. The jury would, of course, believe only that which was +proved to them. But he did expect his old friends at Hogglestock, who +had known him so long, to take his word as true. That there was no +sufficient excuse for his conduct, even in his own sight, this, his +voluntary resignation of his parish, was, he said, sufficient +evidence. Then he explained to them, as clearly as he was able, what +the bishop had done, what the commission had done, and what he had +done himself. That he spoke no word of Mrs Proudie to that audience +need hardly be mentioned here. "And now, dearest friends, I leave +you," he said, with that weighty solemnity which was so peculiar to +the man, and which he was able to make singularly impressive even on +such a congregation as that of Hogglestock, "and I trust that the +heavy but pleasing burden of the charge which I have had over you may +fall into hands better fitted than mine have been for such work. I +have always known my own unfitness, by reason of the worldly cares +with which I have been laden. Poverty makes the spirit poor, and the +hands weak, and the heart sore,—and too often makes the conscience +dull. May the latter never be the case with any of you." Then he +uttered another short prayer, and, stepping down from the pulpit, +walked out of the church, with his weeping wife hanging on his arm, +and his daughter following them, almost dissolved in tears. He never +again entered that church as the pastor of the congregation.</p> + +<p>There was an old lame man from Hoggle End leaning on his stick near +the door as Mr Crawley went out, and with him was his old lame wife. +"He'll pull through yet," said the old man to his wife; "you'll see +else. He'll pull through because he's so dogged. It's dogged as does +it."</p> + +<p>On that night the position of the members of Mr Crawley's household +seemed to have changed. There was something almost of elation in his +mode of speaking, and he said soft loving words, striving to comfort +his wife. She, on the other hand, could say nothing to comfort him. +She had been averse to the step he was taking, but had been unable to +press her objection in opposition to his great argument as to duty. +Since he had spoken to her in that strain which he had used with +Robarts, she also had felt that she must be silent. But she could not +even feign to feel the pride which comes from the performance of a +duty. "What will he do when he comes out?" she said to her daughter. +The coming out spoken of by her was the coming out of prison. It was +natural enough that she should feel no elation.</p> + +<p>The breakfast on Sunday morning was to her, perhaps, the saddest +scene of her life. They sat down, the three together, at the usual +hour,—nine o'clock,—but the morning had not been passed as was +customary on Sundays. It had been Mr Crawley's practice to go into +the school from eight to nine; but on this Sunday he felt, as he told +his wife, that his presence would be an intrusion there. But he +requested Jane to go and perform her usual task. "If Mr Thumble +should come," he said to her, "be submissive to him in all things." +Then he stood at his door, watching to see at what hour Mr Thumble +would reach the school. But Mr Thumble did not attend the school on +that morning. "And yet he was very express to me in his desire that I +would not myself meddle with the duties," said Mr Crawley to his wife +as he stood at the door,—"unnecessarily urgent, as I must say I +thought at the time." If Mrs Crawley could have spoken out her +thoughts about Mr Thumble at that moment, her words would, I think, +have surprised her husband.</p> + +<p>At breakfast there was hardly a word spoken. Mr Crawley took his +crust and eat it mournfully,—almost ostentatiously. Jane tried and +failed, and tried to hide her failure, failing in that also. Mrs +Crawley made no attempt. She sat behind her teapot, with her hands +clasped and her eyes fixed. It was as though some last day had come +upon her,—this, the first Sunday of her husband's degradation. +"Mary," he said to her, "why do you not eat?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot," she replied, speaking not in a whisper, but in words +which would hardly get themselves articulated. "I cannot. Do not ask +me."</p> + +<p>"For the honour of the lord, you will want the strength which bread +alone can give you," he said, intimating to her that he wished her to +attend the service.</p> + +<p>"Do not ask me to be there, Josiah. I cannot. It is too much for me."</p> + +<p>"Nay, I will not press it," he said. "I can go alone." He uttered no +word expressive of a wish that his daughter should attend the church; +but when the moment came, Jane accompanied him. "What shall I do, +mamma?" she said, "if I find I cannot bear it?" "Try to bear it," the +mother said. "Try for his sake. You are stronger than I am."</p> + +<p>The tinkle of the church bell was heard at the usual time, and Mr +Crawley, hat in hand, stood ready to go forth. He had heard nothing +of Mr Thumble, but had made up his mind that Mr Thumble would not +trouble him. He had taken the precaution to request his churchwarden +to be early at the church, so that Mr Thumble might encounter no +difficulty. The church was very near to the house, and any vehicle +arriving might have been seen had Mr Crawley watched closely. But no +one had cared to watch Mr Thumble's arrival at the church. He did not +doubt that Mr Thumble would be at the church. With reference to the +school, he had had some doubt.</p> + +<p>But just as he was about to start he heard the clatter of a gig. Up +came Mr Thumble to the door of the parsonage, and having come down +from his gig was about to enter the house as though it were his own. +Mr Crawley greeted him in the pathway, raising his hat from his head, +and expressing a wish that Mr Thumble might not feel himself fatigued +with his drive. "I will not ask you into my poor house," he said, +standing in the middle of the pathway; "for that my wife is ill."</p> + +<p>"Nothing catching, I hope?" said Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"Her malady is of the spirit rather than of the flesh," said Mr +Crawley. "Shall we go on to the church?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly,—by all means. How about the surplice?"</p> + +<p>"You will find, I trust, that the churchwarden has everything in +readiness. I have notified to him expressly your coming, with the +purport that it may be so."</p> + +<p>"You'll take a part in the service, I suppose?" said Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"No part,—no part whatever," said Mr Crawley, standing still for a +moment as he spoke, and showing plainly by the tone of his voice how +dismayed he was, how indignant he had been made, by so indecent a +proposition. Was he giving up his pulpit to a stranger for any reason +less cogent than one which made it absolutely imperative on him to be +silent in that church which had so long been his own?</p> + +<p>"Just as you please," said Mr Thumble. "Only it's rather hard lines +to have to do it all myself after coming all the way from Barchester +this morning." To this Mr Crawley condescended to make no reply +whatever.</p> + +<p>In the porch of the church, which was the only entrance, Mr Crawley +introduced Mr Thumble to the churchwarden, simply by a wave of the +hand, and then passed on with his daughter to a seat which opened +upon the aisle. Jane was going on to that which she had hitherto +always occupied with her mother in the little chancel; but Mr Crawley +would not allow this. Neither to him nor to any of his family was +there attached any longer the privilege of using the chancel of the +church of Hogglestock.</p> + +<p>Mr Thumble scrambled into the reading-desk some ten minutes after the +proper time, and went through the morning service under, what must be +admitted to be, serious difficulties. There were the eyes of Mr +Crawley fixed upon him throughout the work, and a feeling pervaded +him that everybody there regarded him as an intruder. At first this +was so strong upon him that Mr Crawley pitied him, and would have +encouraged him had it been possible. But as the work progressed, and +as custom and the sound of his own voice emboldened him, there came +to the man some touches of the arrogance which so generally +accompanies cowardice, and Mr Crawley's acute ear detected the moment +when it was so. An observer might have seen that the motion of his +hands was altered as they were lifted in prayer. Though he was +praying, even in prayer he could not forget the man who was occupying +the desk.</p> + +<p>Then came the sermon, preached very often before, lasting exactly +half-an-hour, and then Mr Thumble's work was done. Itinerant +clergymen, who preach now here and now there, as it had been the lot +of Mr Thumble to do, have at any rate this belief,—that they can +preach their sermons often. From the communion-table Mr Thumble had +stated that, in the present peculiar circumstances of the parish, +there would be no second service at Hogglestock for the present; and +this was all he said or did peculiar to the occasion. The moment the +service was over he got into his gig, and was driven back to +Barchester.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," said Jane, as they sat at their dinner, "such a sermon I am +sure was never heard in Hogglestock before. Indeed, you can hardly +call it a sermon. It was downright nonsense."</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Mr Crawley energetically, "keep your criticisms for +matters that are profane; then, though they be childish and silly, +they may at least be innocent. Be critical on Euripides, if you must +be critical." But when Jane kissed her father after dinner, she, +knowing his humour well, felt assured that her remarks had not been +taken altogether in ill part.</p> + +<p>Mr Thumble was neither seen nor heard of again in the parish during +the entire week.</p> + + +<p><a name="c70" id="c70"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXX</h3> +<h3>Mrs Arabin Is Caught<br /> </h3> + + +<p>One morning about the middle of April Mr Toogood received a telegram +from Venice which caused him instantly to leave his business in +Bedford Row and take the first train for Silverbridge. "It seems to +me that this job will be a deal of time and very little money," said +his partner to him, when Toogood on the spur of the moment was making +arrangements for his sudden departure and uncertain period of +absence. "That's about it," said Toogood. "A deal of time, some +expense, and no returns. It is not the kind of business a man can +live upon, is it?" The partner growled, and Toogood went. But we must +go with Mr Toogood down to Silverbridge, and as we cannot make the +journey in this chapter, we will just indicate his departure and then +go back to John Eames, who, as will be remembered, was just starting +for Florence when we last saw him.</p> + +<p>Our dear old friend Johnny had been rather proud of himself as he +started from London. He had gotten an absolute victory over Sir +Raffle Buffle, and that alone was gratifying to his feelings. He +liked the excitement of a journey, and especially of a journey to +Italy; and the importance of the cause of his journey was +satisfactory to him. But above all things he was delighted at having +found that Lily Dale was pleased at his going. He had seen clearly +that she was much pleased, and that she made something of a hero of +him because of his alacrity in the cause of his cousin. He had +partially understood,—had understood in a dim sort of way,—that his +want of favour in Lily's eyes had come from some deficiency of his +own in this respect. She had not found him to be a hero. She had +known him first as a boy, with boyish belongings around him, and she +had seen him from time to time as he became a man, almost with too +much intimacy for the creation of that love with which he wished to +fill her heart. His rival had come before her eyes for the first time +with all the glories of Pall Mall heroism about him, and Lily in her +weakness had been conquered by them. Since that she had learned how +weak she had been,—how silly, how childish, she would say to herself +when she allowed her memory to go back to the details of her own +story; but not the less on that account did she feel the want of +something heroic in a man before she could teach herself to look upon +him as more worthy of her regard than other men. She had still +unconsciously hoped in regard to Crosbie, but now that hope had been +dispelled as unconsciously, simply by his appearance. There had +been moments in which John Eames had almost risen to the necessary +point,—had almost made good his footing on the top of some moderate, +but still sufficient mountain. But there had still been a succession +of little tumbles,—unfortunate slips for which he himself should not +always have been held responsible; and he had never quite stood +upright on his pinnacle, visible to Lily's eyes as being really +excelsior. Of all this John Eames himself had an inkling which had +often made him very uncomfortable. What the mischief was it she +wanted of him; and what was he to do? The days for plucking glory +from the nettle danger were clean gone by. He was well dressed. He +knew a good many of the right sort of people. He was not in debt. He +had saved an old nobleman's life once upon a time, and had been a +good deal talked about on that score. He had even thrashed the man +who had ill-treated her. His constancy had been as the constancy of a +Jacob! What was it that she wanted of him? But in a certain way he +did know what was wanted; and now, as he started for Florence, +intending to stop nowhere till he reached that city, he hoped that by +this chivalrous journey he might even yet achieve the thing +necessary.</p> + +<p>But on reaching Paris he heard tidings of Mrs Arabin which induced +him to change his plans and make for Venice instead of for Florence. +A banker at Paris, to who whom he brought a letter, told him that Mrs +Arabin would now be found at Venice. This did not perplex him at all. +It would have been delightful to have seen Florence,—but was more +delightful still to see Venice. His journey was the same as far as +Turin; but from Turin he proceeded through Milan to Venice, instead +of going by Bologna to Florence. He had fortunately come armed with +an Austrian passport,—as was necessary in those bygone days of +Venetia's thraldom. He was almost proud of himself, as though he had +done something great, when he tumbled in to his inn at Venice, +without having been in a bed since he left London.</p> + +<p>But he was barely allowed to swim in a gondola, for on reaching +Venice he found that Mrs Arabin had gone back to Florence. He had +been directed to the hotel which Mrs Arabin had used, and was there +told that she had started the day before. She had received some +letter, from her husband as the landlord thought, and had done so. +That was all the landlord knew. Johnny was vexed, but became a little +prouder than before as he felt it to be his duty to go on to Florence +before he went to bed. There would be another night in a railway +carriage, but he would live through it. There was just time to have a +tub and a breakfast, to swim in a gondola, to look at the outside of +the Doge's palace, and to walk up and down the piazza before he +started again. It was hard work, but I think he would have been +pleased had he heard that Mrs Arabin had retreated from Florence to +Rome. Had such been the case, he would have folded his cloak around +him, and have gone on,—regardless of brigands,—thinking of Lily, +and wondering whether anybody else had ever done so much before +without going to bed. As it was, he found that Mrs Arabin was at the +hotel in Florence,—still in bed, as he had arrived early in the +morning. So he had another tub, another breakfast, and sent up his +card. "Mr John Eames",—and across the top of it he wrote, "has come +from England about Mr Crawley." Then he threw himself on a sofa in +the hotel reading-room, and went fast to sleep.</p> + +<p>John had found an opportunity of talking to a young lady in the +breakfast-room, and had told her of his deeds. "I only left London on +Tuesday night, and I have come here taking Venice on the road."</p> + +<p>"Then you have travelled fast," said the young lady.</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen a bed, of course," said John.</p> + +<p>The young lady immediately afterwards told her father. "I suppose he +must be one of those Foreign Office messengers," said the young lady.</p> + +<p>"Anything but that," said the gentleman. "People never talk about +their own trades. He's probably a clerk with a fortnight's leave of +absence, seeing how many towns he can do in the time. It's the usual +way of travelling nowadays. When I was young and there were no +railways, I remember going from Paris to Vienna without sleeping." +Luckily for his present happiness, John did not hear this.</p> + +<p>He was still fast asleep when a servant came to him from Mrs Arabin +to say that she would see him at once. "Yes, yes; I'm quite ready to +go on," said Johnny, jumping up, and thinking of the journey to Rome. +But there was no journey to Rome before him. Mrs Arabin was almost in +the next room, and there he found her.</p> + +<p>The reader will understand that they had never met before, and +hitherto knew nothing of each other. Mrs Arabin had never heard the +name of John Eames till John's card was put into her hands, and would +not have known his business with her had he not written those few +words upon it. "You have come about Mr Crawley?" she said to him +eagerly. "I have heard from my father that somebody was coming."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs Arabin; as hard as I could travel. I had expected to find +you at Venice."</p> + +<p>"Have you been at Venice?"</p> + +<p>"I have just arrived from Venice. They told me at Paris I should find +you there. However, that does not matter, as I have found you here. I +wonder whether you can help us?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know Mr Crawley? Are you a friend of his?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw him in my life; but he married my cousin."</p> + +<p>"I gave him the cheque, you know," said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed Eames, literally almost knocked backwards by the +easiness of the words which contained a solution for so terrible a +difficulty. The Crawley case had assumed such magnitude, and the +troubles of the Crawley family had been so terrible, that it seemed +to him to be almost sacrilegious that words so simply uttered should +suffice to cure everything. He had hardly hoped,—had at least barely +hoped,—that Mrs Arabin might be able to suggest something which +would put them all on a track towards discovery of the truth. But he +found that she had the clue in her hand, and that the clue was one +which required no further delicacy of investigation. There would be +nothing more to unravel; no journey to Jerusalem would be necessary!</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs Arabin, "I gave it to him. They have been writing to +my husband about it, and never wrote to me; and till I received a +letter about it from my father, and another from my sister, at Venice +the day before yesterday, I knew nothing of the particulars of Mr +Crawley's trouble."</p> + +<p>"Had you not heard that he had been taken before the magistrates?"</p> + +<p>"No; not so much even as that. I had seen in <i>Galignani</i> something +about a clergyman, but I did not know what clergyman; and I heard +that there was something wrong about Mr Crawley's money, but there +has always been something wrong about money with poor Mr Crawley; and +as I knew that my husband had been written to also, I did not +interfere, further than to ask the particulars. My letters have +followed me about, and I only learned at Venice, just before I came +here, what was the nature of the case."</p> + +<p>"And did you do anything?"</p> + +<p>"I telegraphed at once to Mr Toogood, who I understand is acting as +Mr Crawley's solicitor. My sister sent me his address."</p> + +<p>"He is my uncle."</p> + +<p>"I telegraphed to him, telling him that I had given Mr Crawley the +cheque, and then I wrote to Archdeacon Grantly giving him the whole +history. I was obliged to come here before I could return home, but I +intended to start this evening."</p> + +<p>"And what is the whole history?" asked John Eames.</p> + +<p>The history of the gift of the cheque was very simple. It has been +told how Mr Crawley in his dire distress had called upon his old +friend at the deanery asking for pecuniary assistance. This he had +done with so much reluctance that his spirit had given way while he +was waiting in the dean's library, and he had wished to depart +without accepting what the dean was quite willing to bestow upon him. +From this cause it had come to pass there had been no time for +explanatory words, even between the dean and his wife,—from whose +private funds had in truth come the money which had been given to Mr +Crawley. For the private wealth of the family belonged to Mrs Arabin, +and not to the dean; and was left entirely in Mrs Arabin's hands, to +be disposed of as she might please. Previously to Mr Crawley's +arrival at the deanery this matter had been discussed between the +dean and his wife, and it had been agreed between them that a sum of +fifty pounds should be given. It should be given by Mrs Arabin, but +it was thought that the gift would come with more comfort to the +recipient from the hands of his old friend than from those of his +wife. There had been much discussion between them as to the mode in +which this might be done with least offence to the man's +feelings,—for they knew Mr Crawley and his peculiarities well. At +last it was agreed that the notes should be put into an envelope, +which envelope the dean should have ready with him. But when the +moment came the dean did not have the envelope ready, and was obliged +to leave the room to seek his wife. And Mrs Arabin explained to John +Eames that even she had not had it ready, and had been forced to go +to her own desk to fetch it. Then, at the last moment, with the +desire of increasing the good to be done to people who were so +terribly in want, she put the cheque for twenty pounds, which was in +her possession as money of her own, along with the notes, and in this +way the cheque had been given by the dean to Mr Crawley. "I shall +never forgive myself for not telling the dean," she said. "Had I done +that all this trouble would have been saved."</p> + +<p>"But where did you get the cheque?" Eames asked with natural +curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Exactly," said Mrs Arabin. "I have got to show now that I did not +steal it,—have I not? Mr Soames will indict me now. And, indeed, I +have had some trouble to refresh my memory as to all the particulars, +for you see it is more than a year past." But Mrs Arabin's mind was +clearer on such matters than Mr Crawley's, and she was able to +explain that she had taken the cheque as part of the rent due to her +from the landlord of "The Dragon of Wantly", which inn was her +property, having been the property of her first husband. For some +years past there had been a difficulty about the rent, things not +having gone at "The Dragon of Wantly" as smoothly as they had used to +go. At once time the money had been paid half-yearly by the +landlord's cheque on the bank of Barchester. For the last +year-and-a-half this had not been done, and the money had come into +Mrs Arabin's hands at irregular periods and in irregular sums. There +was at this moment rent due for twelve months, and Mrs Arabin +expressed her doubt whether she would get it on her return to +Barchester. On the occasion to which she was now alluding, the money +had been paid into her own hands, in the deanery breakfast-parlour, +by a man she knew very well,—not the landlord himself, but one +bearing the landlord's name, whom she believed to the landlord's +brother, or at least his cousin. The man in question was named Daniel +Stringer, and he had been employed in "The Dragon of Wantly", as a +sort of clerk or managing man, as long as she had known it. The rent +had been paid to her by Daniel Stringer quite as often as by Daniel's +brother or cousin, John Stringer, who was, in truth, the landlord of +the hotel. When questioned by John respecting the persons employed at +the inn, she said that she did believe that there had been rumours of +something wrong. The house had been in the hands of the Stringers for +many years,—before the property had been purchased by her husband's +father,—and therefore there had been an unwillingness to remove +them; but gradually, so she said, there had come upon her and her +husband a feeling that the house must be put into other hands. "But +did you say nothing about the check?" John asked. "Yes, I said a good +deal about it. I asked why a cheque of Mr Soames's was brought to me, +instead of being taken to the bank for money; and Stringer explained +to me that they were not very fond of going to the bank, as they owed +money there, but that I could pay it into my account. Only I kept my +account at the other bank."</p> + +<p>"You might have paid it in there?" said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I might, but I didn't. I gave it to poor Mr Crawley +instead,—like a fool, as I know now that I was. And so I have +brought all this trouble on him and on her; and now I must rush home, +without waiting for the dean, as fast as the trains will carry me."</p> + +<p>Eames offered to accompany her, and this offer was accepted. "It is +hard upon you, though," she said; "you will see nothing of Florence. +Three hours in Venice, and six in Florence, and no hours at all +anywhere else, will be a hard fate to you on your first trip to +Italy." But Johnny said "Excelsior" to himself once more, and thought +of Lily Dale, who was still in London, hoping that she might hear of +his exertions; and he felt, perhaps, also that it would be pleasant +to return with a dean's wife, and never hesitated. Nor would it do, +he thought, for him to be absent in the excitement caused by the news +of Mr Crawley's innocence and injuries. "I don't care a bit about +that," he said. "Of course, I should like to see Florence, and, of +course, I should like to go to bed; but I will live in hopes that I +may do both some day." And so there grew to be a friendship between +him and Mrs Arabin even before they had started.</p> + +<p>He had driven through Florence; he saw the Venus de' Medici, and he +saw the Seggiolia; he looked up from the side of the Duomo to the top +of the Campanile, and he walked round the back of the cathedral +itself; he tried to inspect the doors of the Baptistry, and declared +that the "David" was very fine. Then he went back to the hotel, dined +with Mrs Arabin, and started for England.</p> + +<p>The dean was to have joined his wife at Venice, and then they were to +have returned together, coming round by Florence. Mrs Arabin had not, +therefore, taken her things away from Florence when she left it, and +had been obliged to return to pick them up on her journey homewards. +He,—the dean,—had been delayed in his Eastern travels. Neither +Syria or Constantinople had got themselves done as quickly as he had +expected, and he had, consequently, twice written to his wife, +begging her to pardon the transgression of his absence for even yet a +few days longer. "Everything, therefore," as Mrs Arabin said, "has +conspired to perpetuate this mystery, which a word from me would have +solved. I owe more to Mr Crawley than I can ever pay him."</p> + +<p>"He will be very well paid, I think," said John, "when he hears the +truth. If you could see the inside his mind at this moment, I'm sure +you'd find that he thinks he stole the cheque."</p> + +<p>"He cannot think that, Mr Eames. Besides, at this moment I hope he +has heard the truth."</p> + +<p>"That may be, but he did think so. I do believe that he had not the +slightest notion where he got it; and, which is more, not a single +person in the whole county had a notion. People thought that he had +picked it up, and used it in his despair. And the bishop has been so +hard upon him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr Eames, that is the worst of all."</p> + +<p>"So I am told. The bishop has a wife, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has a wife, certainly," said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"And people say that she is not very good-natured."</p> + +<p>"There are some of us at Barchester who do not love her very dearly. +I cannot say that she is one of my own especial friends."</p> + +<p>"I believe she has been hard to Mr Crawley," said John Eames.</p> + +<p>"I should not be in the least surprised," said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>Then they reached Turin, and there, taking up <i>Galignani's Messenger</i> +in the reading-room of Trompetta's Hotel, John Eames saw that Mrs +Proudie was dead. "Look at that," said he, taking the paragraph to +Mrs Arabin; "Mrs Proudie is dead!" "Mrs Proudie dead!" she exclaimed. +"Poor woman! Then there will be peace at Barchester!" "I never knew +her very intimately," she afterwards said to her companion, "and I do +not know that I have a right to say that she ever did me an injury. +But I remember well her first coming into Barchester. My sister's +father-in-law, the late bishop, was just dead. He was a mild, kind, +dear old man, whom my father loved beyond all the world, except his +own children. You may suppose we were all a little sad. I was not +specially connected with the cathedral then, except through my +father,"—and Mrs Arabin, as she told all this, remembered that in +the days of which she was speaking she was a young mourning +widow,—"but I think I can never forget the sort of harsh-toned pæan +of low-church trumpets with which that poor woman made her entry into +the city. She might have been more lenient, as we had never sinned by +being very high. She might, at any rate, have been more gentle with +us at first. I think we had never attempted much beyond decency, +good-will and comfort. Our comfort she utterly destroyed. Good-will +was not to her taste. And as for decency, when I remember some +things, I must say that when the comfort and good-will went, the +decency went along with them. And now she is dead! I wonder how the +bishop will get on without her."</p> + +<p>"Like a house on fire, I should think," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Fie, Mr Eames; you shouldn't speak in such a way on such a subject."</p> + +<p>Mrs Arabin and Johnny became fast friends as they journeyed home. +There was a sweetness in his character which endeared him readily to +women; though, as we have seen, there was a want of something to make +one woman cling to him. He could be soft and pleasant-mannered. He +was fond of making himself useful, and was a perfect master of all +those little caressing modes of behaviour in which the caress is +quite impalpable, and of which most women know the value and +appreciate the comfort. By the time that they had reached Paris John +had told the whole story of Lily Dale and Crosbie, and Mrs Arabin had +promised to assist him, if any assistance might be in her power.</p> + +<p>"Of course I have heard of Miss Dale," she said, "because we know the +De Courcys." Then she turned away her face, almost blushing, as she +remembered the first time that she had seen that Lady Alexandrina De +Courcy whom Mr Crosbie had married. It had been at Mr Thorne's house +at Ullathorne, and on that day she had done a thing which she had +never since remembered without blushing. But it was an old story now, +and a story of which her companion knew nothing,—of which he never +could know anything. That day at Ullathorne Mrs Arabin, the wife of +the Dean of Barchester, than whom there was no more discreet clerical +matron in the diocese, had—boxed a clergyman's ears!</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, speaking of Crosbie, "he was a wise fellow; he knew +what he was about; he married an earl's daughter."</p> + +<p>"And now I remember hearing that somebody gave him a terrible +beating. Perhaps it was you?"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't terrible at all," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Then it was you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; it was I."</p> + +<p>"Then it was you who saved poor old Lord De Guest from the bull?"</p> + +<p>"Go on, Mrs Arabin. There is no end to the grand things I've done."</p> + +<p>"You're quite a hero of romance."</p> + +<p>He bit his lip as he told himself that he was not enough of a hero. +"I don't know about that," said Johnny. "I think what a man ought to +do in these days is to seem not to care what he eats and drinks, and +to have his linen very well got up. Then he'll be a hero." But that +was hard upon Lily.</p> + +<p>"Is that what Miss Dale requires?" said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking about her particularly," said Johnny, lying.</p> + +<p>They slept a night in Paris, as they had done also at Turin,—Mrs +Arabin not finding herself able to accomplish such marvels in the way +of travelling as her companion had achieved,—and then arrived in +London in the evening. She was taken to a certain quiet clerical +hotel at the top of Suffolk Street, much patronised by bishops and +deans of the better sort, expecting to find a message there from her +husband. And there was a message—just arrived. The dean had reached +Florence three days after her departure; and as he would do the +journey home in twenty-four hours less than she had taken, he would +be there, at the hotel, on the day after to-morrow. "I suppose I may +wait for him, Mr Eames?" said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"I will see Mr Toogood to-night, and I will call here to-morrow, +whether I see him or not. At what hour will you be in?"</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble yourself to do that. You must take care of Sir Raffle +Buffle, you know."</p> + +<p>"I shan't go near Sir Raffle Buffle to-morrow, nor yet the next day. +You mustn't suppose that I am afraid of Sir Raffle Buffle."</p> + +<p>"You are only afraid of Lily Dale." From all which it may be seen +that Mrs Arabin and John Eames had become very intimate on their way +home.</p> + +<p>It was then arranged that he should call on Mr Toogood that same +night or early next morning, and that he should come to the hotel at +twelve o'clock on the next day. Going along one of the passages he +passed two gentlemen in shovel hats, with very black new coats, and +knee-breeches; and Johnny could not but hear a few words which one +clerical gentleman said to the other. "She was a woman of great +energy, of wonderful spirit, but a firebrand, my lord,—a complete +firebrand!" Then Johnny knew that the Dean of A was talking to the +Bishop of B about the late Mrs Proudie.</p> + + +<p><a name="c71" id="c71"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXI</h3> +<h3>Mr Toogood at Silverbridge<br /> </h3> + + +<p>We will now go back to Mr Toogood as he started for Silverbridge, on +the receipt of Mrs Arabin's telegram from Venice. "I gave cheque to +Mr Crawley. It was part of a sum of money. Will write to Archdeacon +Grantly to-day, and return home at once." That was the telegram which +Mr Toogood received at his office, and on receiving which he resolved +that he must start to Barchester immediately. "It isn't certainly +what you may call a paying business," he said to his partner, who +continued to grumble; "but it must be done all the same. If it don't +get into the ledger in one way it will in another." So Mr Toogood +started for Silverbridge, having sent to his house in Tavistock +Square for a small bag, a clean shirt, and a toothbrush. And as he +went down in the railway-carriage, before he went to sleep, he turned +it all over in his mind. "Poor devil! I wonder whether any man ever +suffered so much before. And as for that woman,—it's ten thousand +pities that she should have died before she heard it. Talk of +heart-complaint; she'd have had a touch of heart-complaint if she had +known this!" Then, as he was speculating how Mrs Arabin could have +become possessed of the cheque, he went to sleep.</p> + +<p>He made up his mind that the first person to be seen was Mr Walker, +and after that he would, if possible, go to Archdeacon Grantly. He +was at first minded to go at once out to Hogglestock; but when he +remembered how very strange Mr Crawley was in all his ways, and told +himself professionally that telegrams were but bad sources of +evidence on which to depend for details, he thought that it would be +safer if he were first to see Mr Walker. There would be very little +delay. In a day or two the archdeacon would receive his letter, and +in a day or two after that Mrs Arabin would probably be at home.</p> + +<p>It was late in the evening before Mr Toogood reached the house of the +Silverbridge solicitor, having the telegram carefully folded in his +pocket; and he was shown into the dining-room while the servant took +his name up to Mr Walker. The clerks were gone, and the office was +closed; and persons coming on business at such times,—as they often +did come to that house,—were always shown into the parlour. "I don't +know whether master can see you to-night," said the girl; "but if he +can, he'll come down."</p> + +<p>When the card was brought up to Mr Walker he was sitting alone with +his wife. "It's Toogood," said he; "poor Crawley's cousin."</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether he has found anything out," said Mrs Walker. "May +he not come up here?" Then Mr Toogood was summoned into the +drawing-room, to the maid's astonishment; for Mr Toogood had made no +toilet sacrifices to the goddess of grace who presides over evening +society in provincial towns,—and presented himself with the telegram +in his hand. "We have found out all about poor Crawley's cheque," he +said, before the maid-servant had closed the door. "Look at that," +and he handed the telegram to Mr Walker. The poor girl was obliged to +go, though she would have given one her ears to know the exact +contents of that bit of paper.</p> + +<p>"Walker, what is it?" said his wife, before Walker had had time to +make the contents of the document his own.</p> + +<p>"He got it from Mrs Arabin," said Toogood.</p> + +<p>"No!" said Mrs Walker. "I thought that was it all along."</p> + +<p>"It's a pity you didn't say so before," said Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>"So I did; but a lawyer thinks that nobody can ever see anything but +himself;—begging your pardon, Mr Toogood, but I forgot you were one +of us. But, Walker, do read it." Then the telegram was read; "I gave +the cheque to Mr Crawley. It was part of a sum of money,"—with the +rest of it. "I knew it would come out," said Mrs Walker. "I was quite +sure of it."</p> + +<p>"But why the mischief didn't he say so?" said Walker.</p> + +<p>"He did say that he got it from the dean," said Toogood.</p> + +<p>"But he didn't get it from the dean; and the dean clearly knew +nothing about it."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is," said Mrs Walker; "it has been some +private transaction between Mr Crawley and Mrs Arabin, which the dean +was to know nothing about; and so he wouldn't tell. I must say I +honour him."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it has been that," said Walker. "Had he known all +through that it had come from Mrs Arabin, he would never have said +that Mr Soames gave it to him, and then that the dean gave it to +him."</p> + +<p>"The truth has been that he has known nothing about it," said +Toogood; "and we shall have to tell him."</p> + +<p>At that moment Mary Walker came into the room, and Mrs Walker could +not constrain herself. "Mary, Mr Crawley is right. He didn't steal +the cheque. Mrs Arabin gave it to him."</p> + +<p>"Who says so? How do you know? Oh, dear; I am so happy, if it's +true." Then she saw Mr Toogood and curtseyed.</p> + +<p>"It is quite true, my dear," said Mr Walker. "Mr Toogood has had a +message by the wires from Mrs Arabin at Venice. She is coming home at +once, and no doubt everything will be put right. In the meantime, it +may be a question whether we should not hold our tongues. Mr Crawley +himself, I suppose, knows nothing of it yet?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word," said Toogood.</p> + +<p>"Papa, I must tell Miss Prettyman," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I should think that probably all Silverbridge knows it by this +time," said Mrs Walker, "because Jane was in the room when the +announcement was made. You may be sure that every servant in the +house has been told." Mary Walker, not waiting for any further +command from her father, hurried out of the room to convey the secret +to her special circle of friends.</p> + +<p>It was known throughout Silverbridge that night, and indeed it made +so much commotion that it kept many people for an hour out of their +beds. Ladies who were not in the habit of going out late at night +without the fly from the "George and Vulture", tied their heads up in +their handkerchiefs, and hurried up and down the street to tell each +other that the great secret had been discovered, and that in truth Mr +Crawley had not stolen the cheque. The solution of the mystery was +not known to all,—was known on that night only to the very select +portion of the aristocracy of Silverbridge to whom it was +communicated by Mary Walker or Miss Anne Prettyman. For Mary Walker, +when earnestly entreated by Jane, the parlour-maid, to tell her +something more of the great news, had so far respected her father's +caution as to say not a word about Mrs Arabin. "Is it true, Miss +Mary, that he didn't steal it?" Jane asked imploringly. "It is true. +He did not steal it." "And who did, Miss Mary? Indeed I won't tell +anybody." "Nobody. But don't ask any more questions, for I won't +answer them. Get me my hat at once, for I want to go up to Miss +Prettyman's." Then Jane got Miss Walker's hat, and immediately +afterwards scampered into the kitchen with the news. "Oh, law, cook, +it's all come out! Mr Crawley's as innocent as the unborn babe. The +gentleman upstairs what's just come, and was here once before,—for I +know'd him immediate,—I heard him say so. And master said so too."</p> + +<p>"Did master say so his own self?" asked the cook.</p> + +<p>"Indeed he did; and Miss Mary told me the same this moment."</p> + +<p>"If master said so, then there ain't a doubt as they'll find him +innocent. And who took'd it, Jane?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Mary says as nobody didn't steal it."</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense, Jane. It stands to reason as somebody had it as +hadn't ought to have had it. But I'm glad as anything as how that +poor reverend gent'll come off;—I am. They tells me it's weeks +sometimes before a bit of butcher's meat finds its way into his +house." Then the groom and the housemaid and the cook, one after +another, took occasion to slip out of the back-door, and poor Jane, +who had really been the owner of the news, was left alone to answer +the bell.</p> + +<p>Miss Walker found the two Miss Prettymans sitting together over their +accounts in the elder Miss Prettyman's private room. And she could +see at once by signs which were not unfamiliar to her that Miss Anne +Prettyman was being scolded. It often happened that Miss Anne +Prettyman was scolded, especially when the accounts were brought out +upon the table. "Sister, they are illegible," Mary Walker heard, as +the servant opened the door for her.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it's quite so bad as that," said Miss Anne, unable to +restrain her defence. Then, as Mary entered the room, Miss Prettyman +the elder laid her hands down on certain books and papers as though +to hide them from profane eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see you, Mary," said Miss Prettyman gravely.</p> + +<p>"I've brought such a piece of news," said Mary. "I knew you'd be glad +to hear it, so I ventured to disturb you."</p> + +<p>"Is it good news?" said Anne Prettyman.</p> + +<p>"Very good news. Mr Crawley is innocent."</p> + +<p>Both the ladies sprang on to their legs. Even Miss Prettyman herself +jumped up on to her legs. "No!" said Anne. "Your father has +discovered it?" said Miss Prettyman.</p> + +<p>"Not exactly that. Mr Toogood has come down from London to tell him. +Mr Toogood, you know, is Mr Crawley's cousin; and he is a lawyer, +like papa." It may be observed that ladies belonging to the families +of solicitors always talk about lawyers, and never about attorneys or +barristers.</p> + +<p>"And does Mr Toogood say that Mr Crawley is innocent?" asked Miss +Prettyman.</p> + +<p>"He has heard it by a message from Mrs Arabin. But you mustn't +mention this. You won't, please, because papa asked me not. I told +him that I should tell you." Then, for the first time, the frown +passed away entirely from Miss Prettyman's face, and the papers and +account books were pushed aside, as being of no moment. The news had +been momentous enough to satisfy her. Mary continued her story almost +in a whisper. "It was Mrs Arabin who sent the cheque to Mr Crawley. +She says so herself. So that makes Mr Crawley quite innocent. I am so +glad."</p> + +<p>"But isn't it odd he didn't say so?" said Miss Prettyman.</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, it's true." said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he forgot," said Anne Prettyman.</p> + +<p>"Men don't forget such things as that," said the elder sister.</p> + +<p>"I really do think that Mr Crawley could forget anything," said the +younger sister.</p> + +<p>"You may be sure it's true," said Mary Walker, "because papa said +so."</p> + +<p>"If he said so, it must be true," said Miss Prettyman; "and I am +rejoiced. I really am rejoiced. Poor man! Poor ill-used man! And +nobody has ever believed that he has really been guilty, even though +they may have thought that he spent the money without any proper +right to it. And now he will get off. But, dear me, Mary, Mr Smithe +told me yesterday that he had already given up his living, and that +Mr Spooner, the minor canon, was trying to get it from the dean. But +that was because Mr Spooner and Mrs Proudie had quarrelled; and as +Mrs Proudie is gone, Mr Spooner very likely won't want to move now."</p> + +<p>"They'll never go and put anybody into Hogglestock, Annabella, over +Mr Crawley's head," said Anne.</p> + +<p>"I didn't say that they would. Surely I may be allowed to repeat what +I hear, like another person, without being snapped up."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to snap you up, Annabella."</p> + +<p>"You're always snapping me up. But if this is true, I cannot say how +glad I am. My poor Grace! Now, I suppose, there will be no +difficulty, and Grace will become a great lady." Then they discussed +very minutely the chances of Grace Crawley's promotion.</p> + +<p>John Walker, Mr Winthrop, and several others of the chosen spirits of +Silverbridge, were playing whist at a provincial club, which had +established itself in the town, when the news was brought to them. +Though Mr Winthrop was the partner of the great Walker, and though +John Walker was the great man's son, I fear that the news reached +their ears in but an underhand sort of way. As for the great man +himself, he never went near the club, preferring his slippers and tea +at home. The Walkerian groom, rushing up the street to the "George +and Vulture", paused a moment to tell his tidings to the club porter; +from the club porter it was whispered respectfully to the +Silverbridge apothecary, who, by special grace, was a member of the +club;—and was by him repeated with much cautious solemnity over the +card-table. "Who told you that, Balsam?" said John Walker, throwing +down his cards.</p> + +<p>"I've just heard it," said Balsam.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," said John.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if it's true," said Winthrop. "I always said that +something would turn up."</p> + +<p>"Will you bet three to one he is not found guilty?" said John Walker.</p> + +<p>"Done," said Winthrop; "in pounds." That morning the odds in the club +against the event had been only two to one. But as the matter was +discussed, the men in the club began to believe the tidings, and +before he went home, John Walker would have been glad to hedge his +bet on any terms. After he had spoken to his father, he gave his +money up for lost.</p> + +<p>But Mr Walker,—the great Walker,—had more to do that night before +his son came home from the club. He and Mr Toogood agreed that it +would be right that they should see Dr Tempest at once, and they went +over together to the rectory. It was past ten at this time, and they +found the doctor almost in the act of putting out the candles for the +night. "I could not but come to you, doctor," said Mr Walker, "with +the news my friend has brought. Mrs Arabin gave the cheque to +Crawley. Here is a telegram from her saying so." And the telegram was +handed to the doctor.</p> + +<p>He stood perfectly silent for a few minutes, reading it over and over +again. "I see it all," he said, when he spoke at last. "I see it all +now; and I must own I was never before so much puzzled in my life."</p> + +<p>"I own I can't see why she should have given him Mr Soames's cheque," +said Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>"I can't say where she got it, and I own I don't much care," said Dr +Tempest. "But I don't doubt but what she gave it him without telling +the dean, and that Crawley thought it came from the dean. I'm very +glad. I am, indeed, very glad. I do not know that I ever pitied a man +so much in my life as I have pitied Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"It must have been a hard case when it has moved him," said Mr Walker +to Mr Toogood as they left the clergyman's house; and then the +Silverbridge attorney saw the attorney from London home to his inn.</p> + +<p>It was the general opinion at Silverbridge that the news from Venice +ought to be communicated to the Crawleys by Major Grantly. Mary +Walker had expressed this opinion very strongly, and her mother had +agreed with her. Miss Prettyman also felt that poetical justice, or, +at least, the romance of justice, demanded this; and, as she told her +sister Anne after Mary Walker left her, she was of opinion that such +an arrangement might tend to make things safe. "I do think he is an +honest man and a fine fellow," said Miss Prettyman; "but, my dear, +you know what the proverb says, 'There's many a slip 'twixt the cup +and the lip.'" Miss Prettyman thought than anything which might be +done to prevent a slip ought to be done. The idea that the pleasant +task of taking the news out to Hogglestock ought to be confided to +Major Grantly was very general; but then Mr Walker was of the opinion +that the news ought not to be taken to Hogglestock at all till +something more certain than the telegram had reached them. Early on +the following morning the two lawyers again met, and it was arranged +between them that the London lawyer should go over at once to +Barchester, and that the Silverbridge lawyer should see Major +Grantly. Mr Toogood was still of the opinion that with due diligence +something might yet be learned as to the cheque by inquiry among the +denizens of "The Dragon of Wantly"; and his opinion to this effect +was stronger than ever when he learned from Mr Walker that the +"Dragon of Wantly" belonged to Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>Mr Walker, after breakfast, had himself driven up in his open +carriage to Cosby Lodge, and, as he entered the gates, observed that +the auctioneer's bills as to the sale had been pulled down. The Mr +Walkers of the world know everything, and our Mr Walker had quite +understood that the major was leaving Cosby Lodge because of some +misunderstanding with his father. The exact nature of the +misunderstanding he did not know, even though he was Mr Walker, but +had little doubt that it referred in some way to Grace Crawley. If +the archdeacon's objection to Grace arose from the imputation against +the father, that objection would now be removed, but the abolition of +the posters could not as yet have been owing to any such cause as +that. Mr Walker found the major at the gate of the farmyard attached +to Cosby Lodge, and perceived that at that very moment he was engaged +in superintending the abolition of sundry other auctioneer's bills +from sundry posts. "What is all this about?" said Mr Walker, greeting +the major. "Is there to be no sale after all?"</p> + +<p>"It has been postponed," said the major.</p> + +<p>"Postponed for good, I hope? Bill to be read again this day six +months!" said Mr Walker.</p> + +<p>"I rather think not. But circumstances have induced me to have it put +off."</p> + +<p>Mr Walker had got out of the carriage and had taken Major Grantly +aside. "Just come a little further," he said; "I've something special +to tell you. News reached me last night which will clear Mr Crawley +altogether. We know now where he got the cheque."</p> + +<p>"You don't tell me so!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. And though the news has reached us in such a way that we +cannot act upon it till it's confirmed, I do not in the least doubt +it."</p> + +<p>"And how did he get it?"</p> + +<p>"You cannot guess?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," said the major; "unless, after all, Soames gave +it to him."</p> + +<p>"Soames did not give it to him, but Mrs Arabin did."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Arabin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs Arabin."</p> + +<p>"Not the dean?"</p> + +<p>"No, not the dean. What we know is this, that your aunt has +telegraphed to Crawley's cousin, Toogood, to say that she gave +Crawley the cheque, and that she has written to your father about it +at length. We do not like to tell Crawley till that letter has been +received. It is so easy, you know, to misunderstand a telegram, and +the wrong copying of a word may make such a mistake!"</p> + +<p>"When was it received?"</p> + +<p>"Toogood received it in London only yesterday morning. Your father +will not get his letter, as I calculate, till the day after +to-morrow. But, perhaps, you had better go over and see him, and +prepare him for it. Toogood has gone to Barchester this morning." To +this proposition Grantly made no immediate answer. He could not but +remember the terms on which he had left his father; and though he +had, most unwillingly, pulled down the auctioneer's bills, in +compliance with his mother's last prayer to him,—and, indeed, had +angrily told the auctioneer to send him his bill when the auctioneer +had demurred to these proceedings,—nevertheless he was hardly +prepared to discuss the matter of Mr Crawley with his father in +pleasant words,—in words which should be full of rejoicing. It was a +great thing for him, Henry Grantly, that Mr Crawley should be +innocent, and he did rejoice; but he had intended his father to +understand that he meant to persevere, whether Mr Crawley were +innocent or guilty, and thus he would now lose an opportunity for +establishing his obstinacy,—an opportunity which had not been +without a charm for him. He must console himself as best he might +with the returning prospect of assured prosperity, and with his +renewed hopes as to the Plumstead foxes! "We think, major, that when +the time comes you ought to be the bearer of the news to +Hogglestock," said Mr Walker. Then the major did undertake to convey +the news to Hogglestock, but he made no promise as to going over to +Plumstead.</p> + + +<p><a name="c72" id="c72"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXII</h3> +<h3>Mr Toogood at "The Dragon of Wantly"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>In accordance with his arrangement with Mr Walker, Mr Toogood went +over to Barchester early in the morning and put himself up at "The +Dragon of Wantly". He now knew the following facts: that Mr Soames, +when he lost the cheque, had had with him one of the servants from +that inn,—that the man who had been with Mr Soames had gone to New +Zealand,—that the cheque had found its way into the hands of Mrs +Arabin, and that Mrs Arabin was the owner of the inn in question. So +much he believed to be within his knowledge, and if his knowledge +should prove to be correct, his work would be done as far as Mr +Crawley was concerned. If Mr Crawley had not stolen the cheque, and +if that could be proved, it would be a question of no great moment to +Mr Toogood who had stolen it. But he was a sportsman in his own line +who liked to account for his own fox. As he was down at Barchester, +he thought that he might as well learn how the cheque had got into +Mrs Arabin's hands. No doubt that for her own personal possession of +it she would be able to account on her return. Probably such account +would be given in her first letter home. But it might be well that he +should be prepared with any small circumstantial details which he +might be able to pick up at the inn.</p> + +<p>He reached Barchester before breakfast, and in ordering his tea and +toast, reminded the old waiter with the dirty towel of his former +acquaintance with him. "I remember you, sir," said the old waiter. "I +remember you very well. You was asking questions about the cheque +which Mr Soames lost afore Christmas." Mr Toogood certainly had asked +one question on the subject. He had inquired whether a certain man +who had gone to New Zealand had been the post-boy who accompanied Mr +Soames when the cheque was lost; and the waiter had professed to know +nothing about Mr Soames or the cheque. He now perceived at once that +the gist of the question had remained on the old man's mind, and that +he was recognised as being in some way connected with the lost money.</p> + +<p>"Did I? Ah, yes; I think I did. And I think you told me that he was +the man?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I never told you that."</p> + +<p>"Then you told me that he wasn't."</p> + +<p>"Nor I didn't tell you that neither," said the waiter angrily.</p> + +<p>"Then what the devil did you tell me?" To this further question the +waiter sulkily declined to give any answer, and soon afterwards left +the room. Toogood, as soon as he had done his breakfast, rang the +bell, and the same man appeared. "Will you tell Mr Stringer that I +should be glad to see him if he's disengaged," said Mr Toogood. "I +know he's bad with the gout, and therefore if he'll allow me, I'll go +to him instead of his coming to me." Mr Stringer was the landlord of +the inn. The waiter hesitated a moment, and then declared that to the +best of his belief his master was not down. He would go and see. +Toogood, however, would not wait for that; but rising quickly and +passing the waiter, crossed the hall from the coffee-room, and +entered what was called the bar. The bar was a small room connected +with the hall by a large open window, at which orders for rooms were +given and cash was paid, and glasses of beer were consumed,—and a +good deal of miscellaneous conversation was carried on. The barmaid +was here at the window, and there was also, in a corner of the room, +a man at a desk with a red nose. Toogood knew that the man at the +desk with the red nose was Mr Stringer's clerk. So much he had +learned in his former rummaging about the inn. And he also remembered +at this moment that he had observed the man with the red nose +standing under a narrow archway in the close as he was coming out of +the deanery, on the occasion of his visit to Mr Harding. It had not +occurred to him then that the man with the red nose was watching him, +but it did occur to him now that the man with the red nose had been +there, under the arch, with the express purpose of watching him on +that occasion. Mr Toogood passed quickly through the bar into an +inner parlour, in which was sitting Mr Stringer, the landlord, +propped among his cushions. Toogood, as he entered the hotel, had +seen Mr Stringer so placed, through the two doors, which at that +moment had both happened to be open. He knew therefore that his old +friend the waiter had not been quite true to him in suggesting that +his master was not as yet down. As Toogood cast a glance of his eye +on the man with the red nose, he told himself the old story of the +apparition under the archway.</p> + +<p>"Mr Stringer," said Mr Toogood to the landlord, "I hope I'm not +intruding."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no, sir," said the forlorn man. "Nobody ever intrudes +coming in here. I'm always happy to see gentlemen,—only, mostly, I'm +so bad with the gout."</p> + +<p>"Have you got a sharp touch of it just now, Mr Stringer?"</p> + +<p>"Not just to-day, sir. I've been a little easier since Saturday. The +worst of this burst is over. But Lord bless you, sir, it don't leave +me,—not for a single fortnight at a time, now; it don't. And it +ain't what I drink, nor it ain't what I eat."</p> + +<p>"Constitutional, I suppose?" said Toogood.</p> + +<p>"Look here, sir"; and Stringer showed his visitor the chalk stones in +all his knuckles. "They say I'm a mass of chalk. I sometimes think +they'll break me up to mark the scores behind my own door with." And +Mr Stringer laughed at his own wit.</p> + +<p>Mr Toogood laughed too. He laughed loud and cheerily. And then he +asked a sudden question, keeping his eye as he did so upon a little +square open window, which communicated between the landlord's private +room and the bar. Through this small aperture he could see as he +stood a portion of the hat worn by the man with the red nose. Since +he had been in the room with the landlord, the man with the red nose +had moved his head twice, on each occasion drawing himself closer +into his corner; but Mr Toogood, by moving also, had still contrived +to keep a morsel of the hat in sight. He laughed cheerily at the +landlord's joke, and then he asked a sudden question,—looking well +at the morsel of the hat as he did so. "Mr Stringer," said he, "how +do you pay your rent, and to whom do you pay it?" There was +immediately a jerk in the hat, and then it disappeared. Toogood, +stepping to the open door, saw that the red-nosed clerk had taken his +hat off and was very busy at his accounts.</p> + +<p>"How do I pay my rent?" said Mr Stringer, the landlord. "Well, sir, +since this cursed gout has been so bad, it's hard enough to pay it at +all sometimes. You ain't sent here to look for it, sir, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Not I," said Toogood. "It was only a chance question." He felt that +he had nothing more to do with Mr Stringer, the landlord. Mr +Stringer, the landlord, knew nothing about Mr Soames's cheque. +"What's the name of your clerk?" said he.</p> + +<p>"The name of my clerk?" said Mr Stringer. "Why do you want to know +the name of my clerk?"</p> + +<p>"Does he ever pay your rent for you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; he does, at times. He pays it into the bank for the lady +as owns this house. Is there any reason for your asking these +questions, sir. It isn't usual, you know, for a stranger, sir."</p> + +<p>Toogood the whole of this time was standing with his eye upon the +red-nosed man, and the red-nosed man could not move. The red-nosed +man heard all the questions and the landlord's answers, and could not +even pretend that he did not hear them. "I am my cousin's clerk," +said he, putting on his hat, and coming up to Mr Toogood with a +swagger. "My name is Dan Stringer, and I'm Mr John Stringer's cousin. +I've lived with Mr John Stringer for twelve year and more, and I'm +a'most as well known in Barchester as himself. Have you anything to +say to me, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; I have," said Toogood.</p> + +<p>"I believe you're the one of them attorneys from London?" said Mr Dan +Stringer.</p> + +<p>"That's true. I am an attorney from London."</p> + +<p>"I hope there's nothing wrong?" said the gouty man, trying to get off +his chair, but not succeeding. "If there is anything wronger than +usual, Dan, do tell me. Is there anything wrong, sir?" and the +landlord appealed piteously to Mr Toogood.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind, John," said Dan. "You keep yourself quiet, and don't +answer none of his questions. He's one of them low sort, he is. I +know him. I knowed him for what he is directly I saw him. Ferreting +about,—that's his game; to see if there's anything to be got."</p> + +<p>"But what is he ferreting here for?" said Mr John Stringer.</p> + +<p>"I'm ferreting for Mr Soames's cheque for twenty pounds," said Mr +Toogood.</p> + +<p>"That's the cheque that the parson stole," said Dan Stringer. "He's +to be tried for it at the 'sizes."</p> + +<p>"You've heard about Mr Soames and his cheque, and about Mr Crawley, I +daresay?" said Mr Toogood.</p> + +<p>"I've heard a deal about them," said the landlord.</p> + +<p>"And so, I daresay, have you?" said Toogood, turning to Dan Stringer. +But Dan Stringer did not seem inclined to carry on the conversation +any further. When he was hardly pressed, he declared that he just had +heard that there was some parson in trouble about a sum of money; but +that he knew no more about it than that. He didn't know whether it +was a cheque or a note that the parson had taken, and had never been +sufficiently interested in the matter to make any inquiry.</p> + +<p>"But you've just said that Mr Soames's cheque was the cheque the +parson stole," said the astonished landlord, turning with open eyes +upon his cousin.</p> + +<p>"You be blowed," said Dan Stringer, the clerk, to Mr John Stringer, +the landlord; and then walked out of the room back to the bar.</p> + +<p>"I understand nothing about it,—nothing at all," said the gouty man.</p> + +<p>"I understand nearly all about it," said Mr Toogood, following the +red-nosed clerk. There was no necessity that he should trouble the +landlord any further. He left the room, and went through the bar, and +as he passed out along the hall, he found Dan Stringer with his hat +on talking to the waiter. The waiter immediately pulled himself up, +and adjusted his dirty napkin under his arm, after the fashion of +waiters, and showed that he intended to be civil to the customers of +the house. But he of the red nose cocked his hat, and looked with +insolence at Mr Toogood, and defied him. "There's nothing I do hate +so much as them low-bred Old Bailey attorneys," said Mr Dan Stringer +to the waiter, in a voice intended to reach Mr Toogood's ears. Then +Mr Toogood told himself that Dan Stringer was not the thief himself, +and that it might be very difficult to prove that Dan had even been +the receiver of stolen goods. He had, however, no doubt in his own +mind but that such was the case.</p> + +<p>He first went to the police office, and there explained his business. +Nobody at the police office pretended to forget Mr Soames's cheque, +or Mr Crawley's position. The constable went so far as to swear that +there wasn't a man, woman, or child in all Barchester who was not +talking of Mr Crawley at that very moment. Then Mr Toogood went with +the constable to the private house of the mayor, and had a little +conversation with the mayor. "Not guilty!" said the mayor, with +incredulity, when he first heard the news about Crawley. But when he +heard Mr Toogood's story, or as much of it as it was necessary that +he should hear, he yielded reluctantly. "Dear, dear!" he said. "I'd +have bet anything 'twas he who stole it." And after that he mayor was +quite sad. Only let us think what a comfortable excitement it would +create throughout England if it was surmised that an archbishop had +forged a deed; and how England would lose when it was discovered that +the archbishop was innocent! As the archbishop and his forgery would +be to England, so was Mr Crawley and the cheque for twenty pounds to +Barchester and its mayor. Nevertheless, the mayor promised his +assistance to Mr Toogood.</p> + +<p>Mr Toogood, still neglecting his red-nosed friend, went next to the +deanery, hoping that he might again see Mr Harding. Mr Harding was, +he was told, too ill to be seen. Mr Harding, Mrs Baxter said, could +never be seen now by strangers, nor yet by friends, unless they were +very old friends. "There's been a deal of change since you were here +last, sir. I remember your coming, sir. You were talking to Mr +Harding about the poor clergyman as is to be tried." He did not stop +to tell Mrs Baxter the whole story of Mr Crawley's innocence; but +having learned that a message had been received to say that Mrs +Arabin would be home on the next Tuesday,—this being Friday,—he +took his leave of Mrs Baxter. His next visit was to Mr Soames, who +lived three miles out in the country.</p> + +<p>He found it very difficult to convince Mr Soames. Mr Soames was more +staunch in his belief of Mr Crawley's guilt than any one whom Toogood +had yet encountered. "I never took the cheque out of his house," said +Mr Soames. "But you have not stated that on oath," said Mr Toogood. +"No," rejoined the other; "and I never will. I can't swear to it; but +yet I'm sure of it." He acknowledged that he had been driven by a man +named Scuttle, and that Scuttle might have picked up the cheque, if +it had been dropped in the gig. But the cheque had not been dropped +in the gig. The cheque had been dropped in Mr Crawley's house. "Why +did he say then that I paid it to him?" said Mr Soames, when Mr +Toogood spoke confidently of Crawley's innocence. "Ah, why indeed?" +answered Toogood. "If he had not been fool enough to do that, we +should have been saved all this trouble. All the same, he did not +steal your money, Mr Soames; and Jem Scuttle did steal it. +Unfortunately, Jem Scuttle is in New Zealand by this time." "Of +course, it is possible," said Mr Soames, as he bowed Mr Toogood out. +Mr Soames did not like Mr Toogood.</p> + +<p>That evening a gentleman with a red nose asked at the Barchester +station for a second-class ticket for London by the up night-mail +train. He was well-known at the station, and the station-master made +some little inquiry. "All the way to London to-night, Mr Stringer?" +he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—all the way," said the red-nosed man, sulkily.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you'd better go to London to-night, Mr Stringer," said +a tall man, stepping out of the door of the booking-office. "I think +you'd better come back with me to Barchester. I do indeed." There was +some little argument on the occasion; but the stranger, who was a +detective policeman, carried his point, and Mr Dan Stringer did +return to Barchester.</p> + + +<p><a name="c73" id="c73"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIII</h3> +<h3>There Is Comfort at Plumstead<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Henry Grantly had written the following short letter to Mrs Grantly +when he had made up his mind to pull down the auctioneer's +bills.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Mother</span>,</p> + +<p>I have postponed the sale, not liking to refuse you +anything. As far as I can see, I shall be forced to leave +Cosby Lodge, as I certainly shall do all I can to make +Grace Crawley my wife. I say this that there may be no +misunderstanding with my father. The auctioneer has +promised to have the bills removed.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your affectionate son,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Henry Grantly</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This had been written by the major on the Friday before Mr Walker had +brought up to him the tidings of Mr Toogood and Mrs Arabin's solution +of the Crawley difficulty; but it did not reach Plumstead till the +following morning. Mrs Grantly immediately took the glad news about +the sale to her husband,—not of course showing him the letter, being +far too wise for that, and giving him credit for being too wise to +ask for it. "Henry has arranged with the auctioneer," she said +joyfully; "and the bills have been all pulled down."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"I've just heard from him. He has told me so. Come, my dear, let me +have the pleasure of hearing you say that things shall be pleasant +again between you and him. He has yielded."</p> + +<p>"I don't see much yielding in it."</p> + +<p>"He has done what you wanted. What more can he do?"</p> + +<p>"I want him to come over here, and take an interest in things, and +not treat me as though I were nobody." Within an hour of this the +major arrived at Plumstead, laden with the story of Mrs Arabin and +the cheque, and of Mr Crawley's innocence,—laden not only with such +tidings as he had received from Mr Walker, but also with further +details, which he had received from Mr Toogood. For he had come +through Barchester, and had seen Mr Toogood on his way. This was on +the Saturday morning, and he had breakfasted with Mr Toogood at "The +Dragon of Wantly". Mr Toogood had told him of his suspicions,—how +the red-nosed man had been stopped and had been summoned as a witness +for Mr Crawley's trial,—and how he was now under the surveillance of +the police. Grantly had not cared very much about the red-nosed man, +confining his present solicitude to the question whether Grace +Crawley's father would certainly be shown to have been innocent of +the theft. "There's not a doubt about it, major," said Mr Toogood; +"no a doubt on earth. But we'd better be a little quiet till your +aunt comes home,—just a little quiet. She'll be here in a day or +two, and I won't budge till she comes." In spite of his desire for +quiescence Mr Toogood consented to a revelation being at once made to +the archdeacon and Mrs Grantly. "And I'll tell you what, major; as +soon as ever Mrs Arabin is here, and has given us her own word to act +on, you and I will go over to Hogglestock and astonish them. I should +like to go myself, because, you see, Mrs Crawley is my cousin, and we +have taken a little trouble about this matter." To this the major +assented; but he altogether declined to assist in Mr Toogood's +speculations respecting the unfortunate Dan Stringer. It was agreed +between them that for the present no visit should be made to the +palace, as it was thought that Mr Thumble had better be allowed to do +the Hogglestock duties on the next Sunday. As matters went, however, +Mr Thumble did not do so. He had paid his last visit to Hogglestock.</p> + +<p>It may be as well to explain here that the unfortunate Mr Snapper was +constrained to go out to Hogglestock on the Sunday which was now +approaching,—which fell out as follows. It might be all very well +for Mr Toogood to arrange that he would not tell this person or that +person of the news which he had brought down from London; but as he +had told various people in Silverbridge, as he had told Mr Soames, +and as he had told the police at Barchester, of course the tale found +its way to the palace. Mr Thumble heard it, and having come by this +time thoroughly to hate Hogglestock and all that belonged to it, he +pleaded to Mr Snapper that this report offered ample reason why he +need not again visit that detestable parish. Mr Snapper did not see +it in the same light. "You may be sure Mr Crawley will not get into +the pulpit after his resignation, Mr Thumble," said he.</p> + +<p>"His resignation means nothing," said Thumble.</p> + +<p>"It means a great deal," said Snapper; "and the duties must be +provided for."</p> + +<p>"I won't provide for them," said Thumble; "and so you may tell the +bishop." In these days Mr Thumble was very angry with the bishop, for +the bishop had not yet seen him since the death of Mrs Proudie.</p> + +<p>Mr Snapper had no alternative but to go to the bishop. The bishop in +these days was very mild to those whom he saw, given but to few +words, and a little astray,—as though he had had one of his limbs +cut off,—as Mr Snapper expressed it to Mrs Snapper. "I shouldn't +wonder if he felt as though all his limbs were cut off," said Mrs +Snapper; "you must give him time, and he'll come round by-and-by." I +am inclined to think that Mrs Snapper's opinion of the bishop's +feelings and condition was correct. In his difficulty respecting +Hogglestock and Mr Thumble, Mr Snapper went to the bishop, and spoke +perhaps a little too harshly of Mr Thumble.</p> + +<p>"I think, upon the whole, Snapper, that you had better go yourself," +said the bishop.</p> + +<p>"Do you think so, my lord?" said Snapper. "It will be inconvenient."</p> + +<p>"Everything is inconvenient; but you'd better go. And look here, +Snapper, if I were you, I wouldn't say anything out at Hogglestock +about the cheque. We don't know what it may come to yet." Mr Snapper, +with a heavy heart, left his patron, not at all liking the task that +was before him. But his wife encouraged him to be obedient. He was +the owner of a one-horse carriage, and the work was not, therefore, +so hard on him as it would have been and had been to poor Mr Thumble. +And, moreover, his wife promised to go with him. Mr Snapper and Mrs +Snapper did go over to Hogglestock, and the duty was done. Mrs +Snapper spoke a word or two to Mrs Crawley, and Mr Snapper spoke a +word or two to Mr Crawley; but not a word was said about the news as +to Mr Soames's cheque, which were now almost current in Barchester. +Indeed, no whisper about it had as yet reached Hogglestock.</p> + +<p>"One word with you, reverend sir," said Mr Crawley to the chaplain, +as the latter was coming out of the church, "as to the parish work, +sir, during the week;—I should be glad if you would favour me with +your opinion."</p> + +<p>"About what, Mr Crawley?"</p> + +<p>"Whether you think that I may be allowed, without scandal, to visit +the sick,—and to give instruction in the school."</p> + +<p>"Surely;—surely, Mr Crawley. Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Thumble gave me to understand that the bishop was very urgent +that I should interfere in no way in the ministrations of the parish. +Twice did he enjoin on me that I should not +interfere,—unnecessarily, as it seemed to me."</p> + +<p>"Quite unnecessary," said Mr Snapper. "And the bishop will be obliged +to you, Mr Crawley, if you'll just see that the things go on all +straight."</p> + +<p>"I wish it were possible to know with accuracy what his idea of +straightness is," said Mr Crawley to his wife. "It may be that things +are straight to him when they are buried as it were out of sight, and +put away without trouble. I hope it be not so with the bishop." When +he went into his school and remembered,—as he did remember through +every minute of his teaching,—that he was to receive no portion of +the poor stipend which was allotted for the clerical duties of the +parish, he told himself that there was gross injustice in the way in +which things were being made straight at Hogglestock.</p> + +<p>But we must go back to the major and to the archdeacon at +Plumstead,—in which comfortable parish things were generally made +straight more easily than at Hogglestock. Henry Grantly went over +from Barchester to Plumstead in a gig from the the "Dragon", and made +his way at once into his father's study. The archdeacon was seated +there with sundry manuscripts before him, and with one half-finished +manuscript,—as was his wont on every Saturday morning. "Halloo, +Harry," he said. "I didn't expect you in the least." It was barely an +hour since he had told Mrs Grantly that his complaint against his son +was that he wouldn't come and make himself comfortable at the +rectory.</p> + +<p>"Father," said he, giving the archdeacon his hand, "you have heard +nothing yet about Mr Crawley?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the archdeacon, jumping up; "nothing new;—what is it?" +Many ideas about Mr Crawley at that moment flitted across the +archdeacon's mind. Could it be that the unfortunate man had committed +suicide, overcome by his troubles?</p> + +<p>"It has all come out. He got the cheque from my aunt."</p> + +<p>"From your aunt Eleanor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; from my aunt Eleanor. She has telegraphed over from Venice to +say that she gave the identical cheque to Crawley. That is all we +know at present,—except that she has written an account of the +matter to you, and that she will be here herself as quick as she can +come."</p> + +<p>"Who got the message, Henry?"</p> + +<p>"Crawley's lawyer,—a fellow named Toogood, a cousin of his +wife's;—a very decent fellow," added the major, remembering how +necessary it was that he should reconcile his father to all the +Crawley belongings. "He's to be over here on Monday, and then will +arrange what is to be done."</p> + +<p>"Done in what way, Henry?"</p> + +<p>"There's a great deal to be done yet. Crawley does not know himself +at this moment how the cheque got into his hands. He must be told, +and something must be settled about the living. They've taken the +living away from him among them. And then the indictment must be +quashed, or something of that kind done. Toogood has got hold of the +scoundrel at Barchester who really stole the cheque from Soames;—or +thinks he has. It's that Dan Stringer."</p> + +<p>"He's got hold of a regular scamp, then. I never knew any good of Dan +Stringer," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>Then Mrs Grantly was told, and the whole story was repeated again, +with many expressions of commiseration in reference to all the +Crawleys. The archdeacon did not join in these at first, being rather +shy on that head. It was very hard for him to have to speak to his +son about the Crawleys as though they were people in all respects +estimable and well-conducted, and satisfactory. Mrs Grantly +understood this so well, that every now and then she said some +half-laughing word respecting Mr Crawley's peculiarities, feeling +that in this way she might ease her husband's difficulties. "He must +be the oddest man that ever lived," said Mrs Grantly, "not to have +known where he got the cheque." The archdeacon shook his head, and +rubbed his hands as he walked about the room. "I suppose too much +learning has upset him," said the archdeacon. "They say he's not very +good at talking English, but put him on in Greek and he never stops."</p> + +<p>The archdeacon was perfectly aware that he had to admit Mr Crawley to +his goodwill, and that as for Grace Crawley,—it was essentially +necessary that she should be admitted to his heart of hearts. He had +promised as much. It must be acknowledged that Archdeacon Grantly +always kept his promises, and especially such promises as these. And +indeed it was the nature of the man that when he had been angry with +those he loved, he should be unhappy until he had found some escape +from his anger. He could not endure to have to own himself to have +been in the wrong, but he could be content with a very incomplete +recognition of his having been in the right. The posters had been +pulled down and Mr Crawley, as he was now told, had not stolen the +cheque. That was sufficient. If his son would only drink a glass or +two of wine with him comfortably, and talk dutifully about the +Plumstead foxes, all should be held to be right, and Grace Crawley +should be received with lavish paternal embraces. The archdeacon had +kissed Grace once, and he felt that he could do so again without an +unpleasant strain upon his feelings.</p> + +<p>"Say something to your father about the property after dinner," said +Mrs Grantly to her son when they were alone together.</p> + +<p>"About what property?"</p> + +<p>"About this property, or any property; you know what I +mean;—something to show that you are interested about his affairs. +He is doing the best he can to make things right." After dinner, over +the claret, Mr Thorne's terrible sin in reference to the trapping of +foxes was accordingly again brought up, and the archdeacon became +beautifully irate, and expressed his animosity,—which he did not in +the least feel,—against an old friend with an energy which would +have delighted his wife, if she could have heard him. "I shall tell +Thorne my mind, certainly. He and I are very old friends; we have +known each other all our lives; but I cannot put up with this kind of +thing,—and I will not. It's all because he's afraid of his own +gamekeeper." And yet the archdeacon had never ridden after a fox in +his life, and never meant to do so. Nor had he in truth been always +so very anxious that foxes should be found in his covers. That fox +which had been so fortunately trapped just outside the Plumstead +property afforded a most pleasant escape for the steam of his anger. +When he began to talk to his wife that evening about Mr Thorne's +wicked gamekeeper, she was so sure that all was right, that she said +a word of her extreme desire to see Grace Crawley.</p> + +<p>"If he is to marry her, we might as well have her over here," said +the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"That's just what I was thinking," said Mrs Grantly. And thus things +at the rectory got themselves arranged.</p> + +<p>On the Sunday morning the expected letter from Venice came to hand, +and was read on that morning very anxiously, not only by Mrs Grantly +and the major, but by the archdeacon also, in spite of the sanctity +of the day. Indeed the archdeacon had been very stoutly +anti-sabbatarial when the question of stopping the Sunday post to +Plumstead had been mooted in the village, giving those who on that +occasion were the special friends of the postman to understand that +he considered them to be numbskulls, and little better than idiots. +The postman, finding the parson to be against him, had seen that +there was no chance for him, and had allowed the matter to drop. Mrs +Arabin's letter was long and eager, and full of repetitions, but it +did explain clearly to them the exact manner in which the cheque had +found its way into Mr Crawley's hand. "Francis came up to me," she +said in her letter,—Francis being her husband, the dean,—"and +asked me for the money, which I had promised to make up in a packet. The +packet was not ready, and he would not wait, declaring that Mr +Crawley was in such a flurry that he did not like to leave him. I was +therefore to bring it down to the door. I went to my desk, and +thinking that I could spare the twenty pounds as well as the fifty, I +put the cheque into the envelope, together with the notes, and handed +the packet to Francis at the door. I think I told Francis afterwards +that I put seventy pounds into the envelope, instead of fifty, but of +this I will not be sure. <span class="u">At any rate Mr Crawley got Mr Soames's +cheque from me.</span>" These last words she underscored, and then went on +to explain how the cheque had been paid to her a short time before by +Dan Stringer.</p> + +<p>"Then Toogood has been right about the fellow," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"I hope they'll hang him," said Mrs Grantly. "He must have known all +the time what dreadful misery he was bringing upon this unfortunate +family."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose Dan Stringer cared much about that," said the major.</p> + +<p>"Not a straw," said the archdeacon, and then all hurried off to +church; and the archdeacon preached the sermon in the fabrication of +which he had been interrupted by his son, and which therefore barely +enabled him to turn the quarter of an hour from the giving out of his +text. It was his constant practice to preach for full twenty minutes.</p> + +<p>As Barchester lay on the direct road from Plumstead to Hogglestock, +it was thought well that word should be sent to Mr Toogood, desiring +him not to come out to Plumstead on the Monday morning. Major Grantly +proposed to call for him at "The Dragon", and to take him on from +thence to Hogglestock. "You had better take your mother's horses all +through," said the archdeacon. The distance was very nearly twenty +miles, and it was felt by both the mother and the son, that the +archdeacon must be in a good humour when he made such a proposition +as that. It was not often that the rectory carriage-horses were +allowed to make long journeys. A run into Barchester and back, which +altogether was under ten miles, was generally the extent of their +work. "I meant to have posted from Barchester," said the major. "You +may as well take the horses through," said the archdeacon. "Your +mother will not want them. And I suppose you might as well bring your +friend Toogood back to dinner. We'll give him a bed."</p> + +<p>"He must be a good sort of man," said Mrs Grantly; "for I suppose he +has done all this for love?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and spent a lot of money out of his own pocket too!" said the +major enthusiastically. "And the joke of it is, that he has been +defending Crawley in Crawley's teeth. Mr Crawley had refused to +employ counsel; but Toogood had made up his mind to have a barrister, +on purpose that there might be a fuss about it in court. He thought +that it would tell with the jury in Crawley's favour."</p> + +<p>"Bring him here, and we'll hear all about that from himself," said +the archdeacon. The major, before he started, told his mother that he +should call at Framley Parsonage on his way back; but he said nothing +on this subject to his father.</p> + +<p>"I'll write to her in a day or two," said Mrs Grantly, "and we'll +have things settled pleasantly."</p> + + +<p><a name="c74" id="c74"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIV</h3> +<h3>The Crawleys Are Informed<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Major Grantly made an early start, knowing that he had a long day's +work before him. He had written over-night to Mr Toogood, naming the +hour at which he would reach "The Dragon", and was there punctual to +the moment. When the attorney came out and got into the open +carriage, while the groom held the steps for him, it was plain to be +seen that the respect in which he was held at "The Dragon" was +greatly increased. It was already known that he was going to +Plumstead that night, and it was partly understood that he was +engaged with the Grantly and Arabin faction in defending Mr Crawley +the clergyman against the Proudie faction. Dan Stringer, who was +still at the inn, as he saw his enemy get into the Plumstead +carriage, felt himself to be one of the palace party, and felt that +if Mrs Proudie had only lived till after the assizes all this heavy +trouble would not have befallen him. The waiter with the dirty napkin +stood at the door and bowed, thinking perhaps that as the Proudie +party was going down in Barchester, it might be as well to be civil +to Mr Toogood. The days of the Stringers were probably drawing to a +close at the "The Dragon of Wantly", and there was no knowing who +might be the new landlord.</p> + +<p>Henry Grantly and the lawyer found very little to say to each other +on their long way out to Hogglestock. They were thinking, probably, +much of the coming interview, and hardly knew how to express their +thoughts to each other. "I will not take the carriage up to the +house," said the major, as they were entering the parish of +Hogglestock; "particularly as the man must feed the horses." So they +got out at a farm-house about half a mile from the church, where the +offence of the carriage and the livery-servant would be well out of +Mr Crawley's sight, and from thence walked towards the parsonage. The +church, and the school close to it, lay on their way, and as they +passed by the school door they heard voices within. "I'll bet +twopence he's there," said Toogood. "They tell me he's always either +in one shop or the other. I'll slip in and bring him out." Mr Toogood +had assumed a comfortable air, as though the day's work was to be +good pastime, and even made occasional attempts at drollery. He had +had his jokes about Dan Stringer, and had attempted to describe the +absurdities of Mr Crawley's visit to Bedford Row. All this would have +angered the major, had he not seen that it was assumed to cover +something below of which Mr Toogood was a little ashamed, but of +which, as the major thought, Mr Toogood had no cause to be ashamed. +When, therefore, Toogood proposed to go into the school and bring Mr +Crawley out, as though the telling of their story would be the +easiest thing in the world, the major did not stop him. Indeed he had +no plan of his own ready. His mind was too intent on the tragedy +which had occurred, and which was now to be brought to a close, to +enable him to form any plan as to the best way of getting up the last +scene. So Mr Toogood, with quick and easy steps, entered the school, +leaving the major still standing in the road. Mr Crawley was in the +school,—as also was Jane Crawley. "So here you are," said Toogood. +"That's fortunate. I hope I find you pretty well?"</p> + +<p>"If I am not mistaken in the identity, my wife's relative, Mr +Toogood?" said Mr Crawley, stepping down from his humble desk.</p> + +<p>"Just so, my friend," said Toogood, with his hand extended, "just so; +and there's another gentleman outside who wants to have a word with +you also. Perhaps you won't mind stepping out. These are the young +Hogglestockians; are they?"</p> + +<p>The young Hogglestockians stared at him, and so did Jane. Jane, who +had before heard of him, did not like him at first sight, seeing that +her father was clearly displeased by the tone of the visitor's +address. Mr Crawley was displeased. There was a familiarity about Mr +Toogood which made him sore, as having been exhibited before his +pupils. "If you will be pleased to step out, sir, I will follow you," +he said, waving his hand towards the door. "Jane, my dear, if you +will remain with the children I will return to you presently. Bobby +Studge has failed in saying his Belief. You had better set him on +again from the beginning. Now, Mr Toogood." And again he waved his +hand towards the door.</p> + +<p>"So that's my young cousin, is it?" said Toogood, stretching over and +just managing to touch Jane's fingers,—of which act of touching Jane +was very chary. Then he went forth, and Mr Crawley followed him. +There was the major standing in the road, and Toogood was anxious to +be the first to communicate the good news. It was the only reward he +had proposed to himself for the money he had expended and the time he +had lost and the trouble he had taken. "It's all right, old fellow," +he said, clapping his hand on Mr Crawley's shoulder. "We've got the +right sow by the ear at last. We know all about it." Mr Crawley could +hardly remember the time when he had been called an old fellow last, +and now he did not like it; nor, in the confusion of his mind, could +he understand the allusion to the right sow. He supposed that Mr +Toogood had come to him about his trial, but it did not occur to him +that the lawyer might be bringing him news which might make the trial +altogether unnecessary. "If my eyes are not mistaken, there is my +friend, Major Grantly," said Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"There he is, as large as life," said Toogood. "But stop a moment +before you go to him, and give me your hand. I must have the first +shake of it." Hereupon Crawley extended his hand. "That's right. And +now let me tell you we know all about the cheque,—Soames's cheque. +We know where you got it. We know who stole it. We know how it came +to the person who gave it to you. It's all very well talking, but +when you're in trouble always go to a lawyer."</p> + +<p>By this time Mr Crawley was looking full into Mr Toogood's face, and +seeing that his cousin's eyes were streaming with tears, began to get +some insight into the man's character, and also some very dim insight +into the facts which the man intended to communicate to himself. "I +do not as yet fully understand you, sir," he said, "being perhaps in +such matters somewhat dull of intellect, but it seemeth to me that +you are the messenger of glad tidings, whose feet are beautiful upon +the mountains."</p> + +<p>"Beautiful!" said Toogood. "By George, I should think they are +beautiful! Don't you hear me tell you that we have found out all +about the cheque, and that you're as right as a trivet?" They were +still on the little causeway leading from the school up to the road, and +Henry Grantly was waiting for them at the small wicket-gate. "Mr +Crawley," said the major, "I congratulate you with all my heart. I +could not but accompany my friend, Mr Toogood, when he brought you +this good news."</p> + +<p>"I do not even yet altogether comprehend what has been told to me," +said Crawley, now standing out on the road between the other two men. +"I am doubtless dull,—very dull. May I beg some clearer word of +explanation before I ask you to go with me to my wife?"</p> + +<p>"The cheque was given to you by my aunt Eleanor."</p> + +<p>"Your aunt Eleanor!" said Crawley, now altogether in the clouds. Who +was the major's aunt Eleanor? Though he had, no doubt, at different +times heard all the circumstances of the connexion, he had never +realised the fact that his daughter's lover was the nephew of his old +friend Arabin.</p> + +<p>"Yes; by my aunt, Mrs Arabin."</p> + +<p>"She put it into the envelope with the notes," said +Toogood,—"slipped it in without saying a word to any one. I never +heard of a woman doing such a mad thing in my life before. If she had +died, or if we hadn't caught her, where should we all have been? Not +but what I think I should have run Dan Stringer to ground too, and +worked it out of him."</p> + +<p>"Then, after all it was given to me by the dean?" said Crawley, +drawing himself up.</p> + +<p>"It was in the envelope, but the dean did not know it," said the +major.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said Mr Crawley. "I was sure of it. I knew it. Weak as +my mind may be,—and at times it is very weak,—I was certain that I +could not have erred in such a matter. The more I struggled with my +memory the more fixed with me became the fact,—which I had forgotten +but for a moment,—that the document had formed a part of that small +packet handed to me by the dean. But look you, sirs,—bear with me +yet for a moment. I said that it was so, and the dean denied it."</p> + +<p>"The dean did not know it, man," said Toogood, almost in a passion.</p> + +<p>"Bear with me yet awhile. So far have I been from misdoubting the +dean,—whom I have long known to be in all things a true and honest +gentleman,—that I postponed the elaborated result of my own memory +to his word. And I felt myself the more constrained to do this, +because, in a moment of forgetfulness, in the wantonness of +inconsiderate haste, with wicked thoughtlessness, I had allowed +myself to make a false statement,—unwittingly false, indeed, +nonetheless very false, unpardonably false. I had declared without +thinking, that the money had come to me from the hands of Mr Soames, +thereby seeming to cast a reflection upon that gentleman. When I had +been guilty of so great a blunder, of so gross a violation of that +ordinary care which should govern all words between man and man, +especially when any question of money may be in doubt,—how could I +expect that any one should accept my statement when contravened by +that made by the dean? How, in such embarrassment, could I believe in +my own memory? Gentlemen, I did not believe my own memory. Though all +the little circumstances of that envelope, with its rich but perilous +freightage, came back upon me from time to time with an exactness +that has appeared to me to be almost marvellous, yet I have told +myself that it was not so! Gentlemen, if you please, we will go into +the house; my wife is there, and should no longer be left in +suspense." They passed on in silence for a few steps, till Crawley +spoke again. "Perhaps you will allow me the privilege to be alone +with her for one minute,—but for a minute. Her thanks shall not be +delayed, where thanks are so richly due."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Toogood, wiping his eyes with a large red bandana +handkerchief. "By all means. We'll take a little walk. Come along, +major." The major had turned his face away, and he also was weeping. +"By George! I never heard such a thing in all my life," said Toogood. +"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. I wouldn't indeed. +If I were to tell that up in London, nobody would believe me."</p> + +<p>"I call that man a hero," said Grantly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about being a hero. I never quite knew what makes a +hero, if it isn't having three or four girls dying in love for you at +once. But to find a man who was going to let everything in the world +go against him, because he believed another fellow better than +himself! There's many a chap thinks another man is wool-gathering; +but this man has thought he was wool-gathering himself! It's not +natural; and the world wouldn't go on if there many like that. He's +beckoning us, and we had better go in."</p> + +<p>Mr Toogood went first, and the major followed him. When they entered +the front door they saw the skirt of a woman's dress flitting away +through the door at the end of the passage, and on entering the room +to the left they found Mr Crawley alone. "She has fled, as though +from an enemy," he said, with a little attempt at a laugh; "but I +will pursue her, and bring her back."</p> + +<p>"No, Crawley, no," said the lawyer. "She's a little upset, and all +that kind of thing. We know what women are. Let her alone."</p> + +<p>"Nay, Mr Toogood; but then she would be angered with herself +afterwards, and would lack the comfort of having spoken a word of +gratitude. Pardon me, Major Grantly; but I would not have you leave +us till she has seen you. It is as her cousin says. She is somewhat +over-excited. But still it will be best that she should see you. +Gentlemen, you will excuse me."</p> + +<p>Then he went out to fetch his wife, and while he was away not a word +was spoken. The major looked out of one window and Mr Toogood out of +the other, and they waited patiently till they heard the coming steps +of the husband and wife. When the door was opened, Mr Crawley +appeared, leading his wife by the hand. "My dear," he said, "you know +Major Grantly. This is your cousin, Mr Toogood. It is well that you +know him too, and remember his great kindness to us." But Mrs Crawley +could not speak. She could only sink on the sofa, and hide her face, +while she strove in vain to repress her sobs. She had been very +strong through all her husband's troubles,—very strong in bearing +for him what he could not bear for himself, and in fighting on his +behalf battles in which he was altogether unable to couch a lance; +but the endurance of so many troubles, and the great overwhelming +sorrow at last, had so nearly overpowered her, that she could not +sustain the shock of this turn in their fortunes. "She was never like +this, sirs, when ill news came to us," said Mr Crawley, standing +somewhat apart from her.</p> + +<p>The major sat himself by her side, and put his hand upon hers, and +whispered some word to her about her daughter. Upon this she threw +her arms around him, and kissed his face, and then his hands, and +then looked up into his face through her tears. She murmured some few +words, or attempted to do so. I doubt whether the major understood +their meaning, but he knew very well what was in her heart.</p> + +<p>"And now I think we might as well be moving," said Mr Toogood. "I'll +see about having the indictment quashed. I'll arrange all that with +Walker. It may be necessary that you should go into Barchester the +first day the judges sit; and if so, I'll come and fetch you. You may +be sure I won't leave the place till it's all square."</p> + +<p>As they were going, Grantly,—speaking now altogether with +indifference as to Toogood's presence,—asked Mr Crawley's leave to +be the bearer of these tidings to his daughter.</p> + +<p>"She can hear it in no tones that can be more grateful to her," said +Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>"I shall ask her for nothing for myself now," said Grantly. "It would +be ungenerous. But hereafter,—in a few days,—when she shall be more +at ease, may I then use your permission—?"</p> + +<p>"Major Grantly," said Mr Crawley solemnly. "I respect you so highly, +and esteem you so thoroughly, that I give willingly that which you +ask. If my daughter can bring herself to regard you, as a woman +should regard her husband, with the love that can worship and cling +and be constant, she will, I think, have a fair promise of worldly +happiness. And for you, sir, in giving you my girl,—if so be it that +she is given to you,—I shall bestow upon you a great treasure." Had +Grace been a king's daughter, with a queen's dowry, the permission to +address her could not have been imparted to her lover with a more +thorough appreciation of the value of the privilege conferred.</p> + +<p>"He is a rum 'un," said Mr Toogood, as they got into the carriage +together; "but they say he's a very good 'un to go."</p> + +<p>After their departure Jane was sent for, that she might hear the +family news; and when she expressed some feeling not altogether in +favour of Mr Toogood, Mr Crawley thus strove to correct her views. +"He is a man, my dear, who conceals a warm heart, and an active +spirit, and healthy sympathies, under an affected jocularity of +manner, and almost with a touch of vulgarity. But when the jewel +itself is good, any fault in the casket may be forgiven."</p> + +<p>"Then, papa, the next time I see him I'll like him,—if I can," said +Jane.</p> + +<p>The village of Framley lies slightly off the road from Hogglestock to +Barchester,—so much so as to add perhaps a mile to the journey if +the traveller goes by the parsonage gate. On their route to +Hogglestock our two travellers had passed Framley without visiting +the village, but on the return journey the major asked Mr Toogood's +permission to make the deviation. "I'm not in a hurry," said Toogood. +"I never was more comfortable in my life. I'll just light a cigar +while you go in and see your friends." Toogood lit his cigar, and the +major, getting down from the carriage, entered the parsonage. It was +his fortune to find Grace alone. Robarts was in Barchester, and Mrs +Robarts was across the road, at Lufton Court. "Miss Crawley was +certainly in," the servant told him, and he soon found himself in +Miss Crawley's presence.</p> + +<p>"I have only called to tell you the news about your father," said he.</p> + +<p>"What news?"</p> + +<p>"We have just come from Hogglestock,—your cousin Mr Toogood, that +is, and myself. They have found out all about the cheque. My aunt, +Mrs Arabin, the dean's wife, you know,—she gave it to your father."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Major Grantly!"</p> + +<p>"It seems so easily settled, does it not?"</p> + +<p>"And is it settled?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; everything. Everything about that." Now he had hold of her hand +as if he were going. "Good-by. I told your father that I would just +call and tell you."</p> + +<p>"It seems almost more than I can believe."</p> + +<p>"You may believe it; indeed you may." He still held her hand. "You +will write to your mother I daresay to-night. Tell her I was here. +Good-by now."</p> + +<p>"Good-by," she said. Her hand was still in his, as she looked up into +his face.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear, dearest Grace! My darling Grace!" Then he took her into +his arms and kissed her, and went his way without another word, +feeling that he had kept his word to her father like a gentleman. +Grace, when she was left alone, thought that she was the happiest +girl in Christendom. If she could only get to her mother, and tell +everything, and be told everything! She had no idea of any promise +that her lover might have made to her father, nor did she make +inquiry of her own thoughts as to his reasons for staying with her so +short a time; but looking back at it all she thought his conduct had +been perfect.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the major, with Mr Toogood, was driven home to dinner +at Plumstead.</p> + + +<p><a name="c75" id="c75"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXV</h3> +<h3>Madalina's Heart Is Bleeding<br /> </h3> + + +<p>John Eames, as soon as he had left Mrs Arabin at the hotel and had +taken his travelling-bag to his own lodgings, started off for his +uncle Toogood's house. There he found Mrs Toogood, not in the most +serene state of mind as to her husband's absence. Mr Toogood had now +been at Barchester for the best part of a week,—spending a good deal +of money at the inn. Mrs Toogood was quite sure that he must be doing +that. Indeed, how could he help himself? Johnny remarked that he did +not see how in such circumstances his uncle was to help himself. And +then Mr Toogood had only written one short scrap of a letter,—just +three words, and they were written in triumph. "Crawley is all right, +and I think I've got the real Simon Pure by the heels." "It's all +very well, John," Mrs Toogood said; "and of course it would be a +terrible thing to the family if anybody connected with it were made +out to be a thief." "It would be quite dreadful," said Johnny. "Not +that I ever looked upon the Crawleys as connexions of ours. But, +however, let that pass. I'm sure I'm very glad that your uncle should +have been able to be of service to them. But there's reason in the +roasting of eggs, and I can tell you that money is not so plenty in +this house that your uncle can afford to throw it into the Barchester +gutters. Think what twelve children are, John. It might be all very +well if Toogood were a bachelor, and if some lord had left him a +fortune." John Eames did not stay very long in Tavistock Square. His +cousins Polly and Lucy were gone to the play with Mr Summerkin, and +his aunt was not in one of her best humours. He took his uncle's part +as well as he could, and then left Mrs Toogood. The little allusion +to Lord De Guest's generosity had not been pleasant to him. It seemed +to rob him of all his own merit. He had been rather proud of his +journey to Italy, having contrived to spend nearly forty pounds in +ten days. He had done everything in the most expensive way, feeling +that every napoleon wasted had been laid out on behalf of Mr Crawley. +But, as Mrs Toogood had just told him, all this was nothing to what +Toogood was doing. Toogood with twelve children was living at his own +charges at Barchester, and was neglecting his business besides. +"There's Mr Crump," said Mrs Toogood. "Of course he doesn't like it, +and what can I say to him when he comes to me?" This was not quite +fair on the part of Mrs Toogood, as Mr Crump had not troubled her +even once as yet since her husband's departure.</p> + +<p>What was Johnny to do, when he left Tavistock Square? His club was +open to him. Should he go to his club, play a game of billiards, and +have some supper? When he asked himself the question he knew that he +would not go to his club, and yet he pretended to doubt about it, as +he made his way to a cabstand in Tottenham Court Road. It would be +slow, he told himself, to go to his club. He would have gone to see +Lily Dale, only that his intimacy with Mrs Thorne was not sufficient +to justify his calling at her house between nine and ten o'clock at +night. But, as he must go somewhere,—and as his intimacy with Lady +Demolines was, he thought, sufficient to justify almost anything,—he +would go to Bayswater. I regret to say that he had written a +mysterious note from Paris to Madalina Demolines, saying that he +should be in London on this very night, and that it was just on the +cards that he might make his way up to Porchester Terrace before he +went to bed. The note was mysterious, because it had neither +beginning nor ending. It did not contain even initials. It was +written like a telegraph message, and was about as long. It was the +kind of thing Miss Demolines liked, Johnny thought; and there could +be no reason why he should not gratify her. It was her favourite +game. Some people like whist, some like croquet, and some like +intrigue. Madalina probably would have called it romance,—because by +nature she was romantic. John, who was made of sterner stuff, laughed +at this. He knew that there was no romance in it. He knew that he was +only amusing himself, and gratifying her at the same time, by a +little innocent pretence. He told himself that it was his nature to +prefer the society of women to that of men. He would have liked the +society of Lily Dale, no doubt, much better than that of Miss +Demolines; but as the society of Lily Dale was not to be had at that +moment, the society of Miss Demolines was the best substitute within +his reach. So he got into a cab and had himself driven to Porchester +Terrace. "Is Lady Demolines at home?" he said to the servant. He +always asked for Lady Demolines. But the page who was accustomed to +open the door for him was less false, being young, and would now tell +him, without any further fiction, that Miss Madalina was in the +drawing-room. Such was the answer he got from the page on this +evening. What Madalina did with her mother on these occasions he had +never yet discovered. There used to be some little excuses given +about Lady Demolines' state of health, but latterly Madalina had +discontinued her references to her mother's headaches. She was +standing in the centre of the drawing-room when he entered it, with +both her hands raised, and an almost terrible expression of mystery +in her face. Her hair, however, had been very carefully arranged so +as to fall with copious carelessness down her shoulders, and +altogether she was looking her best. "Oh, John," she said. She called +him John by accident in the tumult of the moment. "Have you heard +what has happened? But of course you have heard it."</p> + +<p>"Heard what? I have heard nothing," said Johnny, arrested almost in +the doorway by the nature of the question,—and partly also, no +doubt, by the tumult of the moment. He had no idea how terrible a +tragedy was in truth in store for him; but he perceived that the +moment was to be tumultuous, and that he must carry himself +accordingly.</p> + +<p>"Come in and close the door," she said. He came in and closed the +door. "Do you mean to say that you haven't heard what has happened in +Hook Court?"</p> + +<p>"No;—what has happened in Hook Court?" Miss Demolines threw herself +back into an arm-chair, closed her eyes, and clasped both her hands +upon her forehead. "What has happened in Hook Court?" said Johnny, +walking up to her.</p> + +<p>"I do not think I can bring myself to tell you," she answered.</p> + +<p>Then he took one of her hands down from her forehead and held it in +his,—which she allowed passively. She was thinking, no doubt, of +something far different from that.</p> + +<p>"I never saw you looking better in my life," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Don't," said she. "How can you talk in that way, when my heart is +bleeding,—bleeding." Then she pulled away her hand, and again +clasped it with the other upon her forehead.</p> + +<p>"But why is your heart bleeding? What has happened in Hook Court?" +Still she answered nothing, but she sobbed violently and the heaving +of her bosom showed how tumultuous was the tumult within it. "You +don't mean to say that Dobbs Broughton has come to grief:—that he's +to be sold out?"</p> + +<p>"Man," said Madalina, jumping up from her chair, standing at her full +height, and stretching out both her arms, "he has destroyed himself!" +The revelation was at last made with so much tragic propriety, in so +excellent a tone, and with such an absence of all the customary +redundancies of commonplace relation, that I think that she must have +rehearsed the scene,—either with her mother or with the page. Then +there was a minute's silence, during which she did not move even an +eyelid. She held her outstretched hands without dropping a finger +half an inch. Her face was thrust forward, her chin projecting, with +tragic horror; but there was no vacillation even in her chin. She did +not wink an eye, or alter to the breadth of a hair the aperture of +her lips. Surely she was a great genius if she did it all without +previous rehearsal. Then, before he had thought of words in which to +answer her, she let her hands fall to her side, she closed her eyes, +and shook her head, and fell back again into her chair. "It is too +horrible to be spoken of,—or to be thought about," she said. "I +could not have brought myself to tell the tale to a living +being,—except to you."</p> + +<p>This would naturally have been flattering to Johnny had it not been +that he was in truth absorbed by the story which he had heard.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that Broughton has—committed +suicide?" She could not speak of it again, but nodded her head at him +thrice, while her eyes were still closed. "And how was the manner of +it?" said he, asking the question in a low voice. He could not even +as yet bring himself to believe it. Madalina was so fond of a little +playful intrigue, that even this story might have something in it of +the nature of fiction. He was not quite sure of the facts, and yet he +was shocked by what he had heard.</p> + +<p>"Would you have me repeat to you all the bloody details of that +terrible scene?" she said. "It is impossible. Go to your friend +Dalrymple. He will tell you. He knows it all. He has been with Maria +all through. I wish,—I wish it had not been so." But nevertheless +she did bring herself to narrate all the details with something more +of circumstance than Eames desired. She soon succeeded in making him +understand that the tragedy of Hook Court was a reality, and that +poor Dobbs Broughton had brought his career to an untimely end. She +had heard everything,—having indeed gone to Musselboro in the City, +and having penetrated even to the sanctum of Mr Bangles. To Mr +Bangles she had explained that she was the bosom-friend of the widow +of the unfortunate man, and that it was her miserable duty to make +herself the mistress of all the circumstances. Mr Bangles,—the +reader may remember him, Burton and Bangles, who kept the stores for +Himalaya wines at 22s 6d the dozen, in Hook Court,—was a bachelor, +and rather liked the visit, and told Miss Demolines very freely all +he had seen. And when she suggested that it might be expedient for +the sake of the family that she should come back to Mr Bangles for +further information at a subsequent period, he very politely assured +her that she would "do him proud", whenever she might please to call +in Hook Court. And then he saw her into Lombard Street, and put her +into an omnibus. She was therefore well qualified to tell Johnny all +the particulars of the tragedy,—and she did so far overcome her +horror as to tell them all. She told her tale somewhat after the +manner of Æneas, not forgetting the "quorum pars magna fui." "I feel +that it almost makes an old woman of me," said she, when she had +finished.</p> + +<p>"No," said Johnny, remonstrating, "not that."</p> + +<p>"But it does. To have been concerned in so terrible a tragedy takes +more of life out of one than years of tranquil existence." As she had +told him nothing of her intercourse with Bangles,—with Bangles who +had literally picked the poor wretch up,—he did not see how she +herself had been concerned in the matter; but he said nothing about +that, knowing the character of his Madalina. "I shall +see—that—body, floating before my eyes while I live," she said, +"and the gory wound, +and,—and<span class="nowrap">—"</span> +"Don't," said Johnny, recoiling in +truth from the picture by which he was revolted. "Never again," she +said, "never again! But you forced it from me, and now I shall not +close my eyes for a week."</p> + +<p>She then became very comfortably confidential, and discussed the +affairs of poor Mrs Dobbs Broughton with a great deal of +satisfaction. "I went to see her, of course, but she sent me down +word to say that the shock would be too much for her. I do not wonder +that she should not see me. Poor Maria! She came to me for advice, +you know, when Dobbs Broughton first proposed to her; and I was +obliged to tell her what I really thought. I knew her character so +well! 'Dear Maria,' I said, 'if you think that you can love him, take +him!' 'I think I can,' she replied. 'But,' said I, 'make yourself +quite sure about the business.' And how has it turned out? She never +loved him. What heart she has she has given to the wretched +Dalrymple."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that he is particularly wretched," said Johnny, pleading +for his friend.</p> + +<p>"He is wretched, and so you'll find. She gave him her heart after +giving her hand to poor Dobbs; and as for the business, there isn't +as much left as will pay for her mourning. I don't wonder that she +could not bring herself to see me."</p> + +<p>"And what has become of the business?"</p> + +<p>"It belongs to Mrs Van Siever,—to her and Musselboro. Poor Broughton +had some little money, and it has gone among them. Musselboro, who +never had a penny, will be a rich man. Of course you know that he is +going to marry Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"I always told you that it would be so. And now you may perhaps +acknowledge that Conway Dalrymple's prospects are not very brilliant. +I hope he likes being cut out by Mr Musselboro! Of course he will +have to marry Maria. I do not see how he can escape. Indeed, she is +too good for him;—only after such a marriage as that, there would be +an end to all his prospects as an artist. The best thing for them +would be to go to New Zealand."</p> + +<p>John Eames certainly liked these evenings with Miss Demolines. He sat +at his ease in a comfortable chair, and amused himself by watching +her different little plots. And then she had bright eyes, and she +flattered him, and allowed him to scold her occasionally. And now and +again there might be some more potent attraction, when she would +admit him to take her hand,—or the like. It was better than to sit +smoking with men at the club. But he could not sit up all night even +with Madalina Demolines, and at eleven he got up to take his leave. +"When shall you see Miss Dale?" she asked him suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," he answered, frowning at her. He always frowned at +her when she spoke to him of Miss Dale.</p> + +<p>"I do not in the least care for your frowns," she said playfully, +putting up her hands to smooth his brows. "I think I know you +intimately enough to name your goddess to you."</p> + +<p>"She isn't my goddess."</p> + +<p>"A very cold goddess, I should think, from what I hear. I wish to ask +you for a promise respecting her."</p> + +<p>"What promise?"</p> + +<p>"Will you grant it me?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell till I hear?"</p> + +<p>"You must promise me not to speak of me to her when you see her."</p> + +<p>"But why must I promise that?"</p> + +<p>"Promise me."</p> + +<p>"Not unless you tell me why." Johnny had already assured himself that +nothing could be more improbable than that he should mention the name +of Miss Demolines to Lily Dale.</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir. Then you may go. And I must say that unless you can +comply with so slight a request as that, I shall not care to see you +here again. Mr Eames, why should you want to speak evil of me to Miss +Dale?"</p> + +<p>"I do not want to speak evil of you."</p> + +<p>"I know that you could not speak of me to her without at least +ridicule. Come, promise me. You shall come here Thursday evening, and +I will tell you why I have asked you."</p> + +<p>"Tell me now."</p> + +<p>She hesitated a moment, and then shook her head. "No. I cannot tell +you now. My heart is still bleeding with the memory of that poor +man's face. I will not tell you now. And yet it is now that you must +give me the promise. Will you not trust me so far as that?"</p> + +<p>"I will not speak of you to Miss Dale."</p> + +<p>"There is my own friend! And now, John, mind you are here at +half-past eight on Thursday. Punctually at half-past eight. There is +a thing I have to tell you, which I will tell you then if you will +come. I had thought to have told you to-day."</p> + +<p>"And why not now?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot. My feelings are too many for me. I should never go through +with it after all that has passed between us about poor Broughton. I +should break down; indeed I should. Go now, for I am tired." Then +having probably taken a momentary advantage of that more potent +attraction to which we have before alluded, he left the room very +suddenly.</p> + +<p>He left the room very suddenly because Madalina's movements had been +so sudden, and her words so full of impulse. He had become aware that +in this little game which he was playing in Porchester Terrace +everything ought to be done after some unaccustomed and special +fashion. So,—having clasped Madalina for one moment in his arms,—he +made a rush at the room door, and was out on the landing in a second. +He was a little too quick for old Lady Demolines, the skirt of whose +night-dress,—as it seemed to Johnny,—he saw whisking away, in at +another door. It was nothing, however, to him if old Lady Demolines, +who was always too ill to be seen, chose to roam about her own house +in her night-dress.</p> + +<p>When he found himself alone in the street, his mind reverted to Dobbs +Broughton and the fate of the wretched man, and he sauntered slowly +down Palace Gardens, that he might look at the house in which he had +dined with a man who had destroyed himself by his own hands. He stood +for a moment looking up at the windows, in which there was now no +light, thinking of the poor woman whom he had seen in the midst of +luxury, and who was now left a widow in such miserable circumstances! +As for the suggestion that his friend Conway would marry her, he did +not believe it for a moment. He knew too well what the suggestions of +his Madalina were worth, and the motives from which they sprung. But +he thought it might be true that Mrs Van Siever had absorbed all +there was of property, and possibly, also, that Musselboro was to +marry her daughter. At any rate, he would go to Dalrymple's rooms, +and if he could find him, would learn the truth. He knew enough of +Dalrymple's ways of life, and of the ways of his friend's chambers +and studio, to care nothing for the lateness of the hour, and in a +very few minutes he was sitting in Dalrymple's arm-chair. He found +Siph Dunn there, smoking in unperturbed tranquillity, and as long as +that lasted he could ask no questions about Mrs Broughton. He told +them, therefore, of his adventures abroad, and of Crawley's escape. +But at last, having finished his third pipe, Siph Dunn took his +leave.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," said John, as soon as Dunn had closed the door, "what is +this I hear about Dobbs Broughton?"</p> + +<p>"He has blown his brains out. That is all."</p> + +<p>"How terribly shocking!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it shocked us all at first. We are used to it now."</p> + +<p>"And the business?"</p> + +<p>"That has gone to the dogs. They say at least that his share of it +had done so."</p> + +<p>"And he was ruined?"</p> + +<p>"They say so. That is, Musselboro says so, and Mrs Van Siever."</p> + +<p>"And what do you say, Conway?"</p> + +<p>"The less I say the better. I have my hopes,—only you're such a +talkative fellow, one can't trust you."</p> + +<p>"I never told any secret of yours, old fellow."</p> + +<p>"Well;—the fact is, I have an idea that something may be saved for +the poor woman. I think that they are wronging her. Of course all I +can do is to put the matter into a lawyer's hands, and pay the +lawyer's bills. So I went to your cousin, and he has taken the case +up. I hope he won't ruin me."</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose you are quarrelling with Mrs Van?"</p> + +<p>"That doesn't matter. She has quarrelled with me."</p> + +<p>"And what about Jael, Conway? They tell me that Jael is going to +become Mrs Musselboro."</p> + +<p>"Who has told you that?"</p> + +<p>"A bird."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I know who the bird is. I don't think that Jael will become Mrs +Musselboro. I don't think that Jael would become Mrs Musselboro, if +Jael were the only woman, and Musselboro the only man in London. To +tell you a little bit of secret, Johnny, I think that Jael will +become the wife of one Conway Dalrymple. That is my opinion; and as +far as I can judge, it is the opinion of Jael also."</p> + +<p>"But not the opinion of Mrs Van. The bird told me another thing, +Conway."</p> + +<p>"What was the other thing?"</p> + +<p>"The bird hinted that all this would end in your marrying the widow +of that poor wretch who destroyed himself."</p> + +<p>"Johnny, my boy," said the artist, after a moment's silence, "if I +give you a bit of advice, will you profit by it?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try, if it's not disagreeable."</p> + +<p>"Whether you profit by it, or whether you do not, keep it to +yourself. I know the bird better than you do, and I strongly caution +you to beware of the bird. The bird is a bird of prey, and altogether +an unclean bird. The bird wants a mate, and doesn't much care how she +finds one. And the bird wants money, and doesn't much care how she +gets it. The bird is a decidedly bad bird, and not at all fit to take +the place of domestic hen in a decent farmyard. In plain English, +Johnny, you'll find some day, if you go over too often to Porchester +Terrace, either that you are going to marry the bird, or else that +you are employing your cousin Toogood for you defence in an action +for breach of promise, brought against you by that venerable old +bird, the bird's mamma."</p> + +<p>"If it's to be either, it will be the latter," said Johnny, as he +took up his hat to go away.</p> + + +<p><a name="c76" id="c76"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVI</h3> +<h3>I Think He Is Light of Heart<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Mrs Arabin remained one day in town. Mr Toogood, in spite of his +asseveration that he would not budge from Barchester till he had seen +Mr Crawley through all his troubles, did run up to London as soon as +the news reached him that John Eames had returned. He came up and +took Mrs Arabin's deposition, which he sent down to Mr Walker. It +might still be necessary, Mrs Arabin was told, that she should go +into court, and there state on oath that she had given the cheque to +Mr Crawley; but Mr Walker was of the opinion that the circumstances +would enable the judge to call upon the grand jury not to find a true +bill against Mr Crawley, and that the whole affair, as far as Mr +Crawley was concerned, would thus be brought to an end. Toogood was +still very anxious to place Dan Stringer in the dock, but Mr Walker +declared that they would fail if they made the attempt. Dan had been +examined before the magistrates at Barchester, and had persisted in +his statement that he had heard nothing about Mr Crawley and the +cheque. This he said in the teeth of the words which had fallen from +him unawares in the presence of Mr Toogood. But they could not punish +him for a lie,—not even for such a lie as that! He was not upon +oath, and they could not make him responsible to the law because he +had held his tongue upon a matter as to which it was manifest to them +all that he had known the whole history during the entire period of +Mr Crawley's persecution. They could only call upon him to account +for his possession of the cheque, and this he did by saying that it +had been paid to him by Jem Scuttle, who received all moneys +appertaining to the hotel stables, and accounted for them once a +week. Jem Scuttle had simply told him that he had taken the cheque +from Mr Soames, and Jem had since gone to New Zealand. It was quite +true that Jem's departure had followed suspiciously close upon the +payment of the rent to Mrs Arabin, and that Jem had been in close +amity with Dan Stringer up to the moment of his departure. That Dan +Stringer had not become honestly possessed of the cheque, everybody +knew; but, nevertheless, the magistrates were of opinion, Mr Walker +coinciding with them, that there was no evidence against him +sufficient to secure a conviction. The story, however, of Mr +Crawley's injuries was so well known in Barchester, and the feeling +against the man who had permitted him to be thus injured was so +strong, that Dan Stringer did not altogether escape without +punishment. Some rough spirits in Barchester called one night at "The +Dragon of Wantly", and begged that Mr Dan Stringer would be kind +enough to come and take a walk with them that evening; and when it +was intimated to them that Dan Stringer had not just then any desire +for exercise, they requested to be allowed to go into the back +parlour and make an evening with Dan Stringer in that recess. There +was a terrible row at "The Dragon of Wantly" that night, and Dan with +difficulty was rescued by the police. On the following morning he was +smuggled out of Barchester by an early train, and has never more been +seen in that city. Rumours of him, however, were soon heard, from +which it appeared that he had made himself acquainted with the casual +ward of more than one workhouse in London. His cousin John left the +inn almost immediately,—as, indeed, he must have done had there been +no question of Mr Soames's cheque,—and then there was nothing more +heard of the Stringers in Barchester.</p> + +<p>Mrs Arabin remained in town one day, and would have remained longer, +waiting for her husband, had not a letter from her sister impressed +upon her that it might be as well that she should be with her father +as soon as possible. "I don't mean to make you think that there is +any immediate danger," Mrs Grantly said, "and, indeed, we cannot say +that he is ill; but it seems that the extremity of old age has come +upon him almost suddenly, and that he is as weak as a child. His only +delight is with the children, especially with Posy, whose gravity in +her management of him is wonderful. He has not left his room now for +more than a week, and he eats very little. It may be that he will +live yet for years; but I should be deceiving you if I did not let +you know that both the archdeacon and I think that the time of his +departure from us is near at hand." After reading this letter, Mrs +Arabin could not wait in town for her husband, even though he was +expected in two days, and though she had been told that her presence +at Barchester was not immediately required on behalf of Mr Crawley.</p> + +<p>But during that one day she kept her promise to John Eames by going +to Lily Dale. Mrs Arabin had become very fond of Johnny, and felt +that he deserved the prize which he had been so long trying to win. +The reader, perhaps, may not agree with Mrs Arabin. The reader, who +may have caught a closer insight into Johnny's character than Mrs +Arabin had obtained, may, perhaps, think that a young man who could +amuse himself with Miss Demolines was unworthy of Lily Dale. If so, I +may declare for myself that I and the reader are in accord about John +Eames. It is hard to measure worth and worthlessness in such matters, +as there is no standard for such measurement. My old friend John was +certainly no hero,—was very unheroic in many phases of his life; but +then, if all the girls are to wait for heroes, I fear that the +difficulties in the way of matrimonial arrangements, great as they +are at present, will be very seriously enhanced. Johnny was not +ecstatic, nor heroic, nor transcendental, nor very beautiful in his +manliness; he was not a man to break his heart for love or to have +his story written in an epic; but he was an affectionate, kindly, +honest young man; and I think most girls might have done worse than +take him. Whether he was wise to ask assistance in his love-making so +often as he had done, that may be another question.</p> + +<p>Mrs Arabin was intimately acquainted with Mrs Thorne, and therefore +there was nothing odd in her going to Mrs Thorne's house. Mrs Thorne +was very glad to see her, and told her all the Barsetshire +news,—much more than Mrs Arabin would have learned in a week at the +deanery; for Mrs Thorne had a marvellous gift of picking up news. She +had already heard the whole story of Mr Soames's cheque, and +expressed her conviction that the least that could be done in amends +to Mr Crawley was to make him a bishop. "And you see the palace is +vacant," said Mrs Thorne.</p> + +<p>"The palace vacant!" said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"It is just as good. Now that Mrs Proudie has gone, I don't suppose +the poor bishop will count for much. I can assure you, Mrs Arabin, I +felt that poor woman's death so much! She used to regard me as one of +the staunchest of the Proudieites! She once whispered to me such a +delightfully wicked story about the dean and the archdeacon. When I +told her that they were my particular friends, she put on a look of +horror. But I don't think she believed me." Then Emily Dunstable +entered the room, and with her came Lily Dale. Mrs Arabin had never +before seen Lily, and of course they were introduced. "I am sorry to say +Miss Dale is going home to Allington to-morrow," said Emily. "But she +is coming to Chaldicotes in May," said Mrs Thorne. "Of course, Mrs +Arabin, you know what gala doings we are going to have in May?" Then +there were various civil little speeches made on each side, and Mrs +Arabin expressed a wish that she might meet Miss Dale again in +Barsetshire. But all this did not bring her at all nearer to her +object.</p> + +<p>"I particularly wish to say a word to Miss Dale,—here to-day, if she +will allow me," said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure she will,—twenty words; won't you, Lily?" said Mrs Thorne, +preparing to leave the room. Then Mrs Arabin apologised, and Mrs +Thorne, bustling up, said that it did not signify, and Lily, +remaining quite still on the sofa, wondered what it was all +about,—and in two minutes Lily and Mrs Arabin were alone together. +Lily had just time to surmise that Mrs Arabin's visit must have some +reference to Mr Crosbie,—remembering that Crosbie had married his +wife out of Barsetshire, and forgetting altogether that Mrs Arabin +had been just brought home from Italy by John Eames.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid, Miss Dale, you will think me very impertinent," said +Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I shall not think that," said Lily.</p> + +<p>"I believe you knew, before Mr Eames started, that he was going to +Italy to find me and my husband?" said Mrs Arabin. Then Lily put Mr +Crosbie altogether out of her head, and became aware that he was not +to be the subject of the coming conversation. She was almost sorry +that it was so. There was no doubt in her mind as to what she would +have said to any one who might have taken up Crosbie's cause. On that +matter she could now have given a very decisive answer in a few +words. But on that other matter she was much more in doubt. She +remembered, however, every word of the note she had received from M. +D. She remembered also the words of John's note to that young woman. +And her heart was still hard against him. "Yes," she said; "Mr Eames +came here one night and told us why he was going. I was very glad +that he was going, because I thought it was right."</p> + +<p>"You know, of course, how successful he has been? It was I who gave +the cheque to Mr Crawley."</p> + +<p>"So Mrs Thorne has heard. Dr Thorne has written to tell her the whole +story."</p> + +<p>"And now I've come to look for Mr Eames's reward."</p> + +<p>"His reward, Mrs Arabin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; or rather to plead for him. You will not, I hope, be angry with +him because he has told me much of his history while we were +travelling home together."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Lily, smiling. "How could he have chosen a better +friend in whom to trust?"</p> + +<p>"He could certainly have chosen none who would take his part more +sincerely. He is so good and amiable! He is so pleasant in his ways, +and so fitted to make a woman happy! And then, Miss Dale, he is also +so devoted!"</p> + +<p>"He is an old friend of ours, Mrs Arabin."</p> + +<p>"So he has told me."</p> + +<p>"And we all of us love him dearly. Mamma is very much attached to +him."</p> + +<p>"Unless he flatters himself, there is no one belonging to you who +would not wish that he should be nearer and dearer still."</p> + +<p>"It may be so. I do not say that it is not so. Mamma and my uncle are +both fond of him."</p> + +<p>"And does that not go a long way?" said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"It ought not to do so," said Lily. "It ought not to go any way at +all."</p> + +<p>"Ought it not? It seems to me that I could never have brought myself +to marry any one whom my friends had not liked."</p> + +<p>"Ah! that is another thing."</p> + +<p>"But is it not a recommendation to a man that he has been so +successful with your friends as to make them all feel that you might +trust yourself to him with perfect safety?" To this Lily made no +answer, and Mrs Arabin went on to plead her friend's cause with all +the eloquence she could use, insisting on all his virtues, his good +temper, his kindness, his constancy,—and not forgetting the fact +that the world was inclined to use him very well. Still Lily made no +answer. She had promised Mrs Arabin that she would not regard her +interference as impertinent, and therefore she refrained from any +word that might seem to show offence. Nor did she feel offence. It +was something gained by John Eames in Lily's estimation that he +should have such a friend as Mrs Arabin to take an interest in his +welfare. But there was a self-dependence, perhaps one may call it an +obstinacy about Lily Dale, which made her determined that she would +not be driven hither or thither by any pressure from without. Why had +John Eames, at the very moment when he should have been doing his +best to drive from her breast the memory of past follies,—when he +would have striven to do so had he really been earnest in his +suit,—why at such a moment had he allowed himself to correspond in +terms of affection with such a woman as this M. D.? While Mrs Arabin +was pleading for John Eames, Lily was repeating to herself certain +words which John had written to the woman—"Ever and always yours +unalterably". Such were not the exact words, but such was the form in +which Lily, dishonestly, chose to repeat them to herself. And why was +it so with her? In the old days she would have forgiven Crosbie any +offence at a word or a look,—any possible letter to any M. D., let her +have been ever so abominable! Nay,—had she not even forgiven him the +offence of deserting herself altogether on behalf of a woman as +detestable as could be any M. D. of Johnny's choosing,—a woman whose +only recommendation had been her title? And yet she would not forgive +John Eames, though the evidence against him was of so flimsy a +nature,—but rather strove to turn the flimsiness of that evidence +into strength! Why was it so? Unheroic as he might be, John Eames was +surely a better man and a bigger man than Adolphus Crosbie. It was +simply this:—she had fallen in love with the one, and had never +fallen in love with the other! She had fallen in love with the one +man, though in her simple way she had made a struggle against such +feeling; and she had not come to love the other man, though she had +told herself that it would be well that she should do so if it were +possible. Again and again she had half declared to herself that she +would take him as her husband and leave the love to come afterwards; +but when the moment came for doing so, she could not do it.</p> + +<p>"May I not say a word of comfort to him?" said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"He will be very comfortable without any such word," said Lily, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"But he is not comfortable; of that you may be very sure." "Yours +ever and unalterably, J. E.," said Lily to herself. "You do not doubt +his affection?" continued Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"I neither doubt it nor credit it."</p> + +<p>"Then I think you wrong him. And the reason why I have ventured to +come to you is that you may know the impression which he has made +upon one who was but the other day a stranger to him. I am sure that +he loves you."</p> + +<p>"I think he is light of heart."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Miss Dale."</p> + +<p>"And how am I to become his wife unless I love him well enough +myself? Mrs Arabin, I have made up my mind about it. I shall never +become any man's wife. Mamma and I are all in all together, and we +shall remain together." And as soon as these words were out of her +mouth, she hated herself for having spoken them. There was a maudlin, +missish, namby-pamby sentimentality about them which disgusted her. +She specially desired to be straightforward, resolute of purpose, +honest-spoken, and free from all touch of affectation. And yet she +had excused herself from marrying John Eames after the fashion of a +sick schoolgirl. "It is no good talking about it any more," she said, +getting up from her chair quickly.</p> + +<p>"You are not angry with me;—or at any rate you will forgive me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm quite sure you have meant to be very good, and I am not a bit +angry."</p> + +<p>"And you will see him before you go?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; that is if he likes to come to-day, or early to-morrow. I +go home to-morrow. I cannot refuse him, because he is such an old +friend,—almost like a brother. But it is of no use, Mrs Arabin." +Then Mrs Arabin kissed her and left her, telling her that Mr Eames +would come to her that afternoon at half-past five. Lily promised +that she would be at home to receive him.</p> + +<p>"Won't you ride with us for the last time?" said Emily Dunstable when +Lily gave notice that she would not want the horse on that afternoon.</p> + +<p>"No; not to-day."</p> + +<p>"You'll never have another opportunity of riding with Emily +Dunstable," said the bride elect;—"at least I hope not."</p> + +<p>"Even under those circumstances I must refuse, though I would give a +guinea to be with you. John Eames is coming here to say good-by."</p> + +<p>"Oh; then indeed you must not come with us. Lily, what will you say +to him?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lily, think of it."</p> + +<p>"I have thought of it. I have thought of nothing else. I am tired of +thinking of it. It is no good to think of anything so much. What does +it matter?"</p> + +<p>"It is very good to have some one to love better than all the world +besides."</p> + +<p>"I have some one," said Lily, thinking of her mother, but not caring +to descend again to the mawkish weakness of talking about her.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but some one to be always with you, to do everything for you; +to be your very own."</p> + +<p>"It is all very well for you," said Lily, "and I think that Bernard +is the luckiest fellow in the world; but it will not do for me. I +know in what college I'll take my degree, and I wish they'd let me +write the letters after my name as the men do."</p> + +<p>"What letters, Lily?"</p> + +<p>"O. M., for Old Maid. I don't see why it shouldn't be as good as +B. A. for Bachelor of Arts. It would mean a great deal more."</p> + + +<p><a name="c77" id="c77"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVII</h3> +<h3>The Shattered Tree<br /> </h3> + + +<p>When Mrs Arabin saw Johnny in the middle of the day, she could hardly +give him much encouragement. And yet she felt by no means sure that +he might not succeed even yet. Lily had been very positive in her +answers, and yet there had been something either in her words or in +the tone of her voice, which had made Mrs Arabin feel that even Lily +was not quite sure of herself. There was still room for relenting. +Nothing, however, had been said which could justify her in bidding +John Eames simply "to go in and and win". "I think he is light of +heart," Lily had said. Those were the words which, of all that had +been spoken, most impressed themselves on Mrs Arabin's memory. She +would not repeat them to her friend, but she would graft upon them +such advice as she had to give him.</p> + +<p>And this she did, telling him that she thought that perhaps Lily +doubted his actual earnestness. "I would marry her this moment," said +Johnny. But that was not enough, as Mrs Arabin knew, to prove his +earnestness. Many men, fickle as weathercocks, are ready to marry at +the moment,—are ready to marry at the moment, because they are +fickle, and think so little about it. "But she hears, perhaps, of +your liking other people," said Mrs Arabin. "I don't care a straw for +any other person," said Johnny. "I wonder whether if I was to shut +myself up in a cage for six months, it would do any good?" "If she +had the keeping of the cage, perhaps it might," said Mrs Arabin. She +had nothing more to say to him on that subject, but to tell him that +Miss Dale would expect him that afternoon at half-past five. "I told +her that you would come to wish her good-by, and she promised to see +you."</p> + +<p>"I wish she'd say she wouldn't see me. Then there would be some +chance," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>Between him and Mrs Arabin, the parting was very affectionate. She +told him how thankful she was for his kindness in coming to her, and +how grateful she would ever be,—and the dean also,—for his +attention to her. "Remember, Mr Eames, that you will always be most +welcome at the Deanery of Barchester. And I do hope that before long +you may be there with your wife." And so they parted.</p> + +<p>He left her at about two, and went to Mr Toogood's office in Bedford +Row. He found his uncle, and the two went out to lunch together in +Holborn. Between them there was no word said about Lily Dale, and +John was glad to have some other subject in his mind for half an +hour. Toogood was full of his triumph about Mr Crawley and of his +successes in Barsetshire. He gave John a long account of his visit to +Plumstead, and expressed his opinion that if all clergymen were like +the archdeacon there would not be so much room for Dissenters. "I've +seen a good many parsons in my time," said Toogood; "but I don't +think I ever saw such a one as him. You know he is a clergyman +somehow, and he never lets you forget it; but that's about all. Most +of 'em are never contented without choking you with their white +cravats all the time you're with 'em. As for Crawley himself," Mr +Toogood continued, "he's not like anybody else that ever was born, +saint or sinner, parson or layman. I never heard of such a man in all +my experience. Though he knew where he got the cheque as well I know +it now, he wouldn't say so, because the dean had said it wasn't so. +Somebody ought to write a book about it,—indeed they ought." Then he +told the whole story of Dan Stringer, and how he had found Dan out, +looking at the top of Dan's hat through the little aperture in the +wall of the inn parlour. "When I saw the twitch in his hat, John, I +knew he had handled the cheque himself. I don't mean to say that I'm +sharper than another man, and I don't think so; but I do mean to say +that when you are in any difficulty of that sort, you ought to go to +a lawyer. It's his business, and a man does what is his business with +patience and perseverance. It's a pity, though, that the scoundrel +should get off." Then Eames gave his uncle an account of his Italian +trip, to and fro, and was congratulated also upon his success. John's +great triumph lay in the fact that he had been only two nights in +bed, and that he would not have so far condescended on those +occasions but for the feminine weakness of his fellow-traveller. "We +shan't forget it all in a hurry,—shall we, John?" said Mr Toogood, +in a pleasant voice, as they parted at the door of the luncheon-house +in Holborn. Toogood was returning to his office, and John Eames was +to prepare himself for his last attempt.</p> + +<p>He went home to his lodgings, intending at first to change his +dress,—to make himself smart for the work before him,—but after +standing for a moment or two leaning on the chest of drawers in his +bedroom, he gave up this idea. "After all that's come and gone," he +said to himself, "if I cannot win her as I am now, I cannot win her +at all." And then he swore to himself a solemn oath, resolving that +he would repeat the purport of it to Lily herself,—that this should +be the last attempt. "What's the use of it? Everybody ridicules me. +And I am ridiculous. I am an ass. It's all very well wanting to be +prime minister; but if you can't be prime minister, you must do +without being prime minister." Then he attempted to sing the old +song—"Shall I, sighing in despair, die because a woman's fair? If +she be not fair to me, what care I how fair she be?" But he did care, +and he told himself that the song did him no good. As it was not time +for him as yet to go to Lily, he threw himself on the sofa, and +strove to read a book. Then all the weary nights of his journey +prevailed over him, and he fell asleep.</p> + +<p>When he woke it wanted a quarter to six. He sprang up, and rushing +out, jumped into a cab. "Berkeley Square,—as hard as you can go," he +said. "Number —." He thought of Rosalind, and her counsels to lovers +as to the keeping of time, and reflected that in such an emergency as +this, he might really have ruined himself by that unfortunate +slumber. When he got to Mrs Thorne's door he knocked hurriedly, and +bustled up to the drawing-room as though everything depended on his +saving a minute. "I'm afraid I'm ever so much behind my time," he +said.</p> + +<p>"It does not matter in the least," said Lily. "As Mrs Arabin said +that perhaps you might call, I would not be out of the way. I +supposed that Sir Raffle was keeping you and that you wouldn't come."</p> + +<p>"Sir Raffle was not keeping me. I fell asleep. That is the truth of +it."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry that you should have been disturbed!"</p> + +<p>"Do not laugh at me, Lily,—to-day. I had been travelling a good +deal, and I suppose I was tired."</p> + +<p>"I won't laugh at you," she said, and of a sudden her eyes became +full of tears,—she did not know why. But there they were, and she +was ashamed to put up her handkerchief, and she could not bring +herself to turn away her face, and she had no resource but that he +should see them.</p> + +<p>"Lily!" he said.</p> + +<p>"What a paladin you have been, John, rushing all about Europe on your +friend's behalf!"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk about that."</p> + +<p>"And such a successful paladin too! Why am I not to talk about it? I +am going home to-morrow, and I mean to talk about nothing else for a +week. I am so very, very, very glad that you have saved your cousin." +Then she did put up her handkerchief, making believe that her tears +had been due to Mr Crawley. But John Eames knew better than that.</p> + +<p>"Lily," he said, "I've come for the last time. It sounds as though I +meant to threaten you; but you won't take it in that way. I think you +will know what I mean. I have come for the last time—to ask you to +be my wife." She got up to greet him when he entered, and they were +both still standing. She did not answer him at once, but turning away +from him walked towards the window. "You knew why I was coming +to-day, Lily?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs Arabin told me. I could not be away when you were coming, but +perhaps it would have been better."</p> + +<p>"It is so? Must it be so? Must you say that to me, Lily? Think of it +for a moment, dear."</p> + +<p>"I have thought about it."</p> + +<p>"One word from you, yes or no, spoken now is to be everything to me +for always. Lily, cannot you say yes?" She did not answer him, but +walked further away from him to another window. "Try to say yes. Look +round at me with one look that may only half mean it; that may tell +me that it shall not positively be no for ever." I think that she +almost tried to turn her face to him; but be that as it may, she kept +her eyes steadily fixed upon the window-pane. "Lily," he said, "it is +not that you are hard-hearted,—perhaps not altogether that you do +not like me. I think that you believe things against me that are not +true." As she heard this she moved her foot angrily upon the carpet. +She had almost forgotten M. D., but now he had reminded her of the +note. She assured herself that she had never believed anything +against him except on evidence that was incontrovertible. But she was +not going to speak to him on such a matter as that! It would not +become her to accuse him. "Mrs Arabin tells me that you doubt whether +I am in earnest," he said.</p> + +<p>Upon hearing this she flashed round upon him almost angrily. "I never +said that."</p> + +<p>"If you will ask me for any token of earnestness, I will give it to +you."</p> + +<p>"I want no token."</p> + +<p>"The best sign of earnestness a man can give generally in such a +matter, is to show how ready he is to be married."</p> + +<p>"I never said anything about earnestness."</p> + +<p>"At the risk of making you angry I will go on, Lily. Of course when +you tell me that you will have nothing to say to me, I try to amuse +myself"—"Yes; by writing love-letters to M. D.," said Lily to +herself.—"What is a poor fellow to do? I tell you fairly that when I +leave you I swear to myself that I will make love to the first girl I +can see who will listen to me—to twenty, if twenty will let me. I +feel I have failed, and it is so I punish myself for my failure." +There was something in this which softened her brow, though she did +not intend that it should be so; and she turned away again, that he +might not see that her brow was softened. "But, Lily, the hope ever +comes back again, and then neither the one nor the twenty are of +avail,—even to punish me. When I look forward and see what it might +be if you were with me, how green it all looks and how lovely, in +spite of all the vows I have made, I cannot help coming back again." +She was now again near the window, and he had not followed her. As +she neither turned towards him nor answered him, he moved from the +table near which he was standing on to the rug before the fire, and +leaned with both his elbows on the mantelpiece. He could still watch +her in the mirror over the fireplace, and could see that she was +still seeming to gaze out upon the street. And had he not moved her? +I think he had so far moved her now, that she had ceased to think of +the woman who had written to her,—that she had ceased to reject him +in her heart on the score of such levities as that! If there were M. +D.'s, like sunken rocks, in his course, whose fault was it? He was +ready enough to steer his bark into the tranquil blue waters if only +she would aid him. I think that all his sins on that score were at +this moment forgiven him. He had told her now what to him would be +green and beautiful, and she did not find herself able to disbelieve +him. She had banished M. D. out of her mind, but in doing so she +admitted other reminiscences into it. And then,—was she in a moment +to be talked out of the resolution of years; and was she to give up +herself, not because she loved, but because the man who talked to her +talked so well that he deserved a reward? Was she now to be as light, +as foolish, as easy, as in those former days from which she had +learned her wisdom? A picture of green lovely things could be +delicious to her eyes as to his; but even for such a picture as that +the price might be too dear! Of all living men,—of all men living in +their present lives,—she loved best this man who was now waiting for +some word of answer to his words, and she did love him dearly; she +would have tended him if sick, have supplied him if in want; have +mourned for him if dead, with the bitter grief of true +affection;—but she could not say to herself that he should be her +lord and master, the head of her house, the owner of herself, the +ruler of her life. The shipwreck to which she had once come, and the +fierce regrets which had thence arisen, had forced her to think too +much of these things. "Lily," he said, still facing towards the +mirror, "will you not come to me and speak to me?" She turned round, +and stood a moment looking at him, and then, having again resolved +that it could not be as he wished, she drew near to him. "Certainly I +will speak to you, John. Here I am." And she came close to him.</p> + +<p>He took both her hands, and looked into her eyes. "Lily, will you be +mine?"</p> + +<p>"No; dear; it cannot be so."</p> + +<p>"Why not, Lily?"</p> + +<p>"Because of that other man."</p> + +<p>"And is that to be a bar for ever?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; for ever."</p> + +<p>"Do you still love him?"</p> + +<p>"No; no, no!"</p> + +<p>"Then why should this be so?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell, dear. It is so. If you take a young tree and split +it, it still lives, perhaps. But it isn't a tree. It is only a +fragment."</p> + +<p>"Then be my fragment."</p> + +<p>"So I will, if it can serve you to give standing ground to such a +fragment in some corner of your garden. But I will not have myself +planted out in the middle, for people to look at. What there is left +would die soon." He still held her hands, and she did not attempt to +draw them away. "John," she said, "next to mamma, I love you better +than all the world. Indeed I do. I can't be your wife, but you need +never be afraid that I shall be more to another than I am to you."</p> + +<p>"That will not serve me," he said, grasping both her hands till he +almost hurt them, but not knowing that he did so. "That is no good."</p> + +<p>"It is all the good that I can do you. Indeed I can do you,—can do +no one any good. The trees that the storms have splintered are never +of use."</p> + +<p>"And is this to be the end of all, Lily?"</p> + +<p>"Not of our loving friendship."</p> + +<p>"Friendship! I hate the word. I hear some one's step, and I had +better leave you. Good-by."</p> + +<p>"Good-by, John. Be kinder than that to me as you are going." He +turned back for a moment, took her hand, and held it tight against +his heart, and then he left her. In the hall he met Mrs Thorne, but, +as she said afterwards, he had been too much knocked about to be able +to throw a word to a dog.</p> + +<p>To Mrs Thorne Lily said hardly a word about John Eames, and when her +cousin Bernard questioned her about him she was dumb. And in these +days she could assume a manner, and express herself with her eyes as +well as with her voice, after a fashion, which was apt to silence +unwelcome questions, even though they were as intimate with her as +was her cousin Bernard. She had described her feelings more plainly +to her lover than she had ever done to any one,—even to her mother; +and having done so she meant to be silent on that subject for +evermore. But of her settled purpose she did say some word to Emily +Dunstable that night. "I do feel," she said, "that I have got the +thing settled at last."</p> + +<p>"And have you settled it, as you call it, in opposition to the wishes +of all your friends?"</p> + +<p>"That is true; and yet I have settled it rightly, and I would not for +worlds have it unsettled again. There are matters on which friends +should not have wishes, or at any rate should not express them."</p> + +<p>"Is that meant to be severe to me?"</p> + +<p>"No; not to you. I was thinking about mamma, and Bell, and my uncle, +and Bernard, who all seem to think that I am to be looked upon as a +regular castaway because I am not likely to have a husband of my own. +Of course you, in your position, must think a girl a castaway who +isn't going to be married?"</p> + +<p>"I think that a girl who is going to be married has the best of it."</p> + +<p>"And I think a girl who isn't going to be married has the best of +it;—that's all. But I feel that the thing is done now, and I am +contented. For the last six or eight months there has come up, I know +not how, a state of doubt which as made me so wretched that I have +done literally nothing. I haven't been able to finish old Mrs Heard's +tippet, literally because people would talk to me about that dearest +of all dear fellows, John Eames. And yet all along I have known how +it would be,—as well as I do now."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand you, Lily; I can't indeed."</p> + +<p>"I can understand myself. I love him so well,—with that intimate, +close, familiar affection,—that I could wash his clothes for him +to-morrow, out of pure personal regard, and think it no shame. He +could not ask me to do a single thing for him,—except the one +thing,—that I would refuse. And I'll go further. I would sooner +marry him than any other man in the world I ever saw, or, as I +believe, that I ever shall see. And yet I am very glad that it is +settled."</p> + +<p>On the next day Lily Dale went down to the Small House of Allington, +and so she passes out of sight. I can only ask the reader to believe +that she was in earnest, and express my opinion, in this last word, +that I shall ever write respecting her, that she will live and die as +Lily Dale.</p> + + +<p><a name="c78" id="c78"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVIII</h3> +<h3>The Arabins Return to Barchester<br /> </h3> + + +<p>In these days Mr Harding was keeping his bed at the deanery, and most +of those who saw him declared that he would never again leave it. The +archdeacon had been slow to believe so, because he had still found +his father-in-law able to talk to him;—not indeed with energy, but +then Mr Harding had never been energetic on ordinary matters,—but +with the same soft cordial interest in things which had ever been +customary with him. He had latterly been much interested about Mr +Crawley, and would make both the archdeacon and Mrs Grantly tell him +all that they had heard, and what they thought of the case. This of +course had been before the all-important news had been received from +Mrs Arabin. Mr Harding was very anxious. "Firstly," as he said, "for +the welfare of the poor man, of whom I cannot bring myself to think +ill; and then for the honour of the cloth in Barchester." "We are as +liable to have black sheep here as elsewhere," the archdeacon +replied. "But, my dear, I do not think that the sheep is black; and +we never have had black sheep in Barchester." "Haven't we though?" +said the archdeacon, thinking, however, of sheep who were black with +a different kind of blackness from this which was now attributed to +Mr Crawley,—of a blackness which was not absolute blackness to Mr +Harding's milder eyes. The archdeacon, when he heard his +father-in-law talk after this fashion, expressed his opinion that he +might live yet for years. He was just the man to linger on, living in +bed,—as indeed he had lingered all his life out of bed. But the +doctor who attended him thought otherwise, as did also Mrs Grantly, +and as did Mrs Baxter, and as also did Posy. "Grandpa won't get up +any more, will he?" Posy said to Mrs Baxter. "I hope he will, my +dear; and that very soon." "I don't think he will," said Posy, +"because he said he would never see the big fiddle again." "That +comes of being a little melancholy like, my dear," said Mrs Baxter.</p> + +<p>Mrs Grantly at this time went into Barchester almost every day, and +the archdeacon, who was very often in the city, never went there +without passing half-an-hour with the old man. These two clergymen, +essentially different in their characters and in every detail of +conduct, had been so much thrown together by circumstances that the +life of each had almost become a part of the life of the other. +Although the fact of Mr Harding's residence at the deanery had of +late years thrown him oftener into the society of the dean than that +of his other son-in-law, yet his intimacy with the archdeacon had +been so much earlier, and his memories of the archdeacon were so much +clearer, that he depended almost more upon the rector of Plumstead, +who was absent, than he did upon the dean, whom he customarily saw +every day. It was not so with his daughters. His Nelly, as he used to +call her, had ever been his favourite, and the circumstances of their +joint lives had been such, that they had never been further separated +than from one street of Barchester to another—and that only for the +very short period of the married life of Mrs Arabin's first husband. +For all that was soft and tender therefore,—which with Mr Harding +was all in the world that was charming to him,—he looked to his +youngest daughter; but for authority and guidance and wisdom, and for +information as to what was going on in the world, he had still turned +to his son-in-law the archdeacon,—as he had done for nearly forty +years. For so long had the archdeacon been potent as a clergyman in +the diocese, and throughout the whole duration of such potency his +word had been law to Mr Harding in most of the affairs of life,—a +law generally to be obeyed, and if sometimes to be broken, still a +law. And now, when all was so nearly over, he would become unhappy if +the archdeacon's visits were far between. Dr Grantly, when he found +that this was so, would not allow that they should be far between.</p> + +<p>"He puts me so much in mind of my father," the archdeacon said to his +wife one day.</p> + +<p>"He is not so old as your father was when he died, by many years," +said Mrs Grantly, "and I think one sees that difference."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—and therefore I say that he may still live for years. My +father, when he took to his bed at last, was manifestly near his +death. The wonder with him was that he continued to live so long. Do +you not remember how the London doctor was put out because his +prophecies were not fulfilled?"</p> + +<p>"I remember it well;—as if it were yesterday."</p> + +<p>"And in that way there is a great difference. My father, who was +physically a much stronger man, did not succumb so easily. But the +likeness is in their characters. There is the same mild sweetness, +becoming milder and sweeter as they increased in age;—a sweetness +that never could believe much evil, but that could believe less, and +still less, as the weakness of age came upon them. No amount of +evidence would induce your father to think that Mr Crawley stole that +money." This was said of course before the telegram had come from +Venice.</p> + +<p>"As far as that goes, I agree with him," said Mrs Grantly, who had +her own reasons for choosing to believe Mr Crawley to be innocent. +"If your son, my dear, is to marry a man's daughter, it will be as +well that you should at least be able to say that you do not believe +that man to be a thief."</p> + +<p>"That is neither here nor there," said the archdeacon. "A jury must +decide it."</p> + +<p>"No jury in Barsetshire shall decide it for me," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"I'm sick of Mr Crawley, and I'm sorry I spoke of him," said the +archdeacon. "But look at Mrs Proudie. You'll agree that she was not +the most charming woman in the world."</p> + +<p>"She certainly was not," said Mrs Grantly, who was anxious to +encourage her husband, if she could do so without admitting anything +which might injure herself afterwards.</p> + +<p>"And she was at one time violently insolent to your father. And even +the bishop thought to trample upon him. Do you remember the bishop's +preaching against your father's chanting? If I ever forget it!" And +the archdeacon slapped his closed fist against his open hand.</p> + +<p>"Don't, dear, don't. What is the good of being violent now?"</p> + +<p>"Paltry little fool! It will be long enough before such a chaunt as +that is heard in any English cathedral again." Then Mrs Grantly got +up and kissed her husband, but he, somewhat negligent of the kiss, +went on with his speech. "But your father remembers nothing of it, +and if there was a single human being who shed a tear in Barchester +for that woman, I believe it was your father. And it was the same +with mine. It came to that at last, that I could not bear to speak to +him of any shortcoming as to one of his own clergymen. I might as +well have pricked him with a penknife. And yet they say men become +heartless and unfeeling as they grow old!"</p> + +<p>"Some do, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes; the heartless and unfeeling do. As the bodily strength fails +and the power of control becomes lessened, the natural aptitude of +the man pronounces itself more clearly. I take it that that is it. +Had Mrs Proudie lived to be a hundred and fifty, she would have +spoken spiteful lies on her deathbed." Then Mrs Grantly told herself +that her husband, should he live to be a hundred and fifty, would +still be expressing his horror of Mrs Proudie,—even on his deathbed.</p> + +<p>As soon as the letter from Mrs Arabin had reached Plumstead, the +archdeacon and his wife arranged that they would both go together to +the deanery. There were the double tidings to be told,—those of Mr +Crawley's assured innocence, and those also of Mrs Arabin's instant +return. And as they went together various ideas were passing through +their minds in reference to the marriage of their son with Grace +Crawley. They were both now reconciled to it. Mrs Grantly had long +ceased to feel any opposition to it, even though she had not seen +Grace; and the archdeacon was prepared to give way. Had he not +promised that in a certain case he would give way, and had not that +case now come to pass? He had no wish to go back from his word. But +he had a difficulty in this,—that he liked to make all the affairs +of his life matter for enjoyment, almost for triumph; but how was he +to be triumphant over this marriage, or how even was he to enjoy it, +seeing that he had opposed it so bitterly? Those posters, though they +were now pulled down, had been up on all barn ends and walls, +patent,—alas, too patent,—to all the world of Barsetshire! "What +will Mr Crawley do now, do you suppose?" said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"What will he do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; must he go on at Hogglestock?"</p> + +<p>"What else?" said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"It is a pity something could not be done for him after all he has +undergone. How on earth can he be expected to live there with a wife +and family, and no private means?" To this the archdeacon made no +answer. Mrs Grantly had spoken almost immediately upon their quitting +Plumstead, and the silence was continued till the carriage had +entered the suburbs of the city. Then Mrs Grantly spoke again, asking +a question, with some internal trepidation which, however, she +managed to hide from her husband. "When poor papa does go, what shall +you do about St Ewold's?" Now, St Ewold's was a rural parish lying +about two miles out of Barchester, the living of which was in the +gift of the archdeacon, and to which the archdeacon had presented his +father-in-law, under certain circumstances, which need not be +repeated in this last chronicle of Barsetshire. Have they not been +written in other chronicles? "When poor papa does go, what will you +do about St Ewold's?" said Mrs Grantly, trembling inwardly. A word +too much might, as she well knew, settle the question against Mr +Crawley for ever. But were she to postpone the word till too late, +the question would be settled as fatally.</p> + +<p>"I haven't thought about it," he said sharply. "I don't like thinking +of such things while the incumbent is still living." Oh, archdeacon, +archdeacon! unless that other chronicle be a false chronicle, how +hast thou forgotten thyself and thy past life! "Particularly not, +when that incumbent is your father," said the archdeacon. Mrs Grantly +said nothing more about St Ewold's. She would have said as much as +she had intended to say if she had succeeded in making the archdeacon +understand that St Ewold's would be a very nice refuge for Mr Crawley +after all the miseries which he had endured at Hogglestock.</p> + +<p>They learned as they entered the deanery that Mrs Baxter had already +heard of Mrs Arabin's return. "Oh yes, ma'am. Mr Harding got a letter +hisself, and I got another,—separate; both from Venice, ma'am. But +when master is to come, nobody seems to know." Mrs Baxter knew that +the dean had gone to Jerusalem, and was inclined to think that from +such distant bournes there was no return for any traveller. The East +is always further than the West in the estimation of the Mrs Baxters +of the world. Had the dean gone to Canada, she would have thought +that he might come back to-morrow. But still there was the news to be +told of Mr Crawley, and there was also joy to be expressed at the +sudden coming back of the much-wished-for mistress of the deanery.</p> + +<p>"It's so good of you to come both together," said Mr Harding.</p> + +<p>"We thought we should be too many for you," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Too many! Oh dear, no. I like to have people by me; and as for +voices and noise, and all that, the more the better. But I am weak. +I'm weak in my legs. I don't think I shall ever stand again."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you will," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"We have brought you good news," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"It is not good news that Nelly will be home this week? You can't +understand what a joy it is to me. I used to think sometimes, at +night, that I should never see her again. That she would come back in +time was all I have wished for." He was lying on his back, and as he +spoke he pressed his withered hands together above the bed-clothes. +They could not begin immediately to tell him of Mr Crawley, but as +soon as his mind had turned itself away from the thoughts of his +absent daughter, Mrs Grantly again reverted to her news.</p> + +<p>"We have come to tell about Mr Crawley, papa."</p> + +<p>"What about him?"</p> + +<p>"He is quite innocent."</p> + +<p>"I knew it, my dear. I always said so. Did I not always say so, +archdeacon?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed you did. I'll give you that credit."</p> + +<p>"And is it all found out?" asked Mr Harding.</p> + +<p>"As far as he is concerned, everything is found out," said Mrs +Grantly. "Eleanor gave him the cheque herself."</p> + +<p>"Nelly gave it to him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa. The dean meant her to give him fifty pounds. But it seems +she got to be soft of heart and made it seventy. She had the cheque +by her, and put it into the envelope with the notes."</p> + +<p>"Some of Stringer's people seem to have stolen the cheque from Mr +Soames," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, I hope not."</p> + +<p>"Somebody must have stolen it, papa."</p> + +<p>"I had hoped not, Susan," said Mr Harding. Both the archdeacon and +Mrs Grantly knew that it was useless to argue with him on such a +point, and so they let that go.</p> + +<p>Then they came to discuss Mr Crawley's present position, and Mr +Harding ventured to ask a question or two as to Grace's chance of +marriage. He did not often interfere in the family arrangements of +his son-in-law,—and never did so when those family arrangements were +concerned with high matters. He had hardly opened his mouth in +reference to the marriage of that August lady who was now the +Marchioness of Hartletop. And of the Lady Anne, the wife of the Rev +Charles Grantly, who was always prodigiously civil to him, speaking +to him very loud, as though he were deaf because he was old, and +bringing him cheap presents from London of which he did not take much +heed,—of her he rarely said a word, or of her children, to either of +his daughters. But now his grandson, Henry Grantly, was going to +marry a girl of whom he felt that he might speak without impropriety. +"I suppose it will be a match; won't it, my dears?"</p> + +<p>"Not a doubt about it," said Mrs Grantly. Mr Harding looked at his +son-in-law, but his son-in-law said nothing. The archdeacon did not +even frown,—but only moved a little uneasily in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear! What a comfort it must be," said the old man.</p> + +<p>"I have not seen her yet," said Mrs Grantly; "but the archdeacon +declares that she is all the graces rolled into one."</p> + +<p>"I never said anything half so absurd," replied the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"But he is really in love with her, papa," said Mrs Grantly. "He +confessed to me that he gave her a kiss, and he only saw her once for +five minutes."</p> + +<p>"I should like to give her a kiss," said Mr Harding.</p> + +<p>"So you shall, papa, and I'll bring her here on purpose. As soon as +ever the thing is settled, we mean to ask her to Plumstead."</p> + +<p>"Do you, though? How nice! How happy Henry will be!"</p> + +<p>"And if she comes—and of course she will—I'll lose no time in +bringing her over to you. Nelly must see her, of course."</p> + +<p>As they were leaving the room Mr Harding called the archdeacon back, +and taking him by the hand, spoke one word to him in a whisper. "I +don't like to interfere," he said; "but might not Mr Crawley have St +Ewold's?" The archdeacon took up the old man's hand and kissed it. +Then he followed his wife out of the room, without making any answer +to Mr Harding's question.</p> + +<p>Three days after this Mrs Arabin reached the deanery, and the joy at +her return was very great. "My dear, I have been sick for you," said +Mr Harding.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, I ought not to have gone."</p> + +<p>"Nay, my dear; do not say that. Would it make me happy that you +should be a prisoner here for ever? It was only when I seemed to get +so weak that I thought about it. I felt that it must be near when +they bade me not to go to the cathedral any more."</p> + +<p>"If I had been here, I could have gone with you, papa."</p> + +<p>"It is better as it is. I know now that I was not fit for it. When +your sister came to me, I never thought of remonstrating. I knew then +that I had seen it for the last time."</p> + +<p>"We need not say that yet, papa."</p> + +<p>"I did think that when you came home we might crawl there together +some warm morning. I did think of that for a time. But it will never +be so, dear. I shall never see anything now that I do not see from +here,—and not that for long. Do not cry, Nelly. I have nothing to +regret, nothing to make me unhappy. I know how poor and weak has been +my life; but I know how rich and strong is that other life. Do not +cry, Nelly,—not till I am gone; and then not beyond measure. Why +should any one weep for those who go away full of years,—and full of +hope?"</p> + +<p>On the day but one following the dean also reached his home. The +final arrangements of his tour, as well as those of his wife, had +been made to depend on Mr Crawley's trial; for he also had been +hurried back by John Eames's visit to Florence. "I should have come +back at once," he said to his wife, "when they wrote to ask me +whether Crawley had taken the cheque from me, had anybody then told +me that he was in actual trouble; but I had no idea then that they +were charging him with theft."</p> + +<p>"As far as I can learn, they never really suspected him until after +your answer had come. They had been quite sure that your answer would +be in the affirmative."</p> + +<p>"What he must have endured it is impossible to conceive. I shall go +out to him to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Would he not come to us?" said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"I doubt it. I will ask him, of course. I will ask them all here. +This about Henry and the girl may make a difference. He has resigned +the living, and some of the palace people are doing the duty."</p> + +<p>"But he can have it again?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; he can have it again. For the matter of that, I need simply +give him back his letter. Only he is so odd,—so unlike other people! +And he has tried to live there, and has failed; and is now in debt. I +wonder whether Grantly would give him St Ewold's?"</p> + +<p>"I wish he would. But you must ask him. I should not dare."</p> + +<p>As to the matter of the cheque, the dean acknowledged to his wife at +last that he had some recollection of her having told him that she +had made the sum of money up to seventy pounds. "I don't feel certain +of it now; but I think you may have done so." "I am quite sure I +could not have done it without telling you," she replied. "At any +rate you said nothing of the cheque," pleaded the dean. "I don't +suppose I did," said Mrs Arabin. "I thought that cheques were like +any other money; but I shall know better for the future."</p> + +<p>On the following morning the dean rode over to Hogglestock, and as he +drew near to the house of his old friend, his spirits flagged,—for +to tell the truth, he dreaded the meeting. Since the day on which he +had brought Mr Crawley from a curacy in Cornwall into the diocese of +Barchester, his friend had been a trouble to him rather than a joy. +The trouble had been a trouble of spirit altogether,—not at all of +pocket. He would willingly have picked the Crawleys out from the +pecuniary mud into which they were ever falling, time after time, had +it been possible. For, though the dean was hardly to be called a rich +man, his lines had fallen to him not only in pleasant places, but in +easy circumstances;—and Mr Crawley's embarrassments, though +overwhelming to him, were not so great as to have been heavy to the +dean. But in striving to do this he had always failed, had always +suffered, and had generally been rebuked. Crawley would attempt to +argue with him as to the improper allotment of Church +endowments,—declaring that he did not do so with any reference to +his own circumstances, but simply because the subject was one +naturally interesting to clergymen. And this he would do, as he was +waving off with his hand offers of immediate assistance which were +indispensable. Then there had been scenes between the dean and Mrs +Crawley,—terribly painful,—and which had taken place in direct +disobedience to the husband's positive injunctions. "Sir," he had +once said to the dean, "I request that nothing may pass from your +hands to the hands of my wife." "Tush, tush," the dean had answered. +"I will have no tushing or pshawing on such a matter. A man's wife is +his very own, the breath of his nostril, the blood of his heart, the +rib from his body. It is for me to rule my wife, and I tell you that +I will not have it." After that the gifts had come from the hands of +Mrs Arabin;—and then again, after that, in the direst hour of his +need, Crawley had himself come and taken money from the dean's hands! +The interview had been so painful that Arabin would hardly have been +able to count the money or to know of what it had consisted, had he +taken the notes and cheque out of the envelope in which his wife had +put them. Since that day the two had not met each other, and since +that day these new troubles had come. Arabin as yet knew but little +of the manner in which they had been borne, except that Crawley had +felt himself compelled to resign the living of Hogglestock. He knew +nothing of Mrs Proudie's persecution, except what he gathered from +the fact of the clerical commission of which he had been informed; +but he could imagine that Mrs Proudie would not lie easy on her bed +while a clergyman was doing duty almost under her nose, who was +guilty of the double offence of being accused of a theft, and of +having been put into his living by the dean. The dean, therefore, as +he rode on, pictured to himself his old friend in a terrible +condition. And it might be that even now that condition would hardly +have been improved. He was no longer suspected of being a thief; but +he could have no money in his pocket; and it might well be that his +sufferings would have made him almost mad.</p> + +<p>The dean also got down and left his horse at a farmyard,—as Grantly +had done with his carriage; and walked on first to the school. He +heard voices inside, but could not distinguish from them whether Mr +Crawley was there or not. Slowly he opened the door, and looking +round saw that Jane Crawley was in the ascendant. Jane did not know +him at once, but told him when he had introduced himself that her +father had gone down to Hoggle End. He had started two hours ago, but +it was impossible to say when he might be back. "He sometimes stays +all day long with the brickmakers," said Jane. Her mother was at +home, and she would take the dean into the house. As she said this +she told him that her father was sometimes better and sometimes +worse. "But he has never been so very, very bad, since Henry Grantly +and mamma's cousin came and told us about the cheque." That word +Henry Grantly made the dean understand that there might yet be a ray +of sunshine among the Crawleys.</p> + +<p>"There is papa," said Jane, as they got to the gate. Then they waited +for a few minutes till Mr Crawley came up, very hot, wiping the sweat +from his forehead.</p> + +<p>"Crawley," said the dean, "I cannot tell you how glad I am to see +you, and how rejoiced I am that this accusation has fallen off from +you."</p> + +<p>"Verily the news came in time, Arabin," said the other, "but it was a +narrow pinch—a narrow pinch. Will you enter, and see my wife?"</p> + + +<p><a name="c79" id="c79"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIX</h3> +<h3>Mr Crawley Speaks of His Coat<br /> </h3> + + +<p>At this time Grace had returned home from Framley. As long as the +terrible tragedy of the forthcoming trial was dragging itself on she +had been content to stay away, at her mother's bidding. It has not +been possible in these pages to tell of all the advice that had been +given to the ladies of the Crawley family in their great difficulty, +and of all the assistance that had been offered. The elder Lady +Lufton and the younger, and Mrs Robarts had continually been in +consultation on the subject; Mrs Grantly's opinion had been asked and +given; and even the Miss Prettymans and Mrs Walker had found means of +expressing themselves. The communications to Mrs Crawley had been +very frequent,—though they had not of course been allowed to reach +the ears of Mr Crawley. What was to be done when the living should be +gone and Mr Crawley should be in prison? Some said that he might be +there for six weeks, and some for two years. Old Lady Lufton made +anxious inquiries about Judge Medlicote, before whom it was said that +the trial would be taken. Judge Medlicote was a Dissenter, and old +Lady Lufton was in despair. When she was assured by some +liberally-disposed friend that this would certainly make no +difference, she shook her head woefully. "I don't know why we are to +have Dissenters at all," she said, "to try people who belong to the +Established Church." When she heard that Judge Medlicote would +certainly be the judge, she made up her mind that two years would be +the least of it. She would not have minded it, she said, if he had +been a Roman Catholic. And whether the punishment might be for six +weeks or for two years, what should be done with the family? Where +should they be housed? How should they be fed? What should be done +with the poor man when he came out of prison? It was a case in which +the generous, soft-hearted old Lady Lufton was almost beside herself. +"As for Grace," said young Lady Lufton, "it will be a great deal +better that we should keep her amongst us. Of course she will become +Mrs Grantly, and it will be nicer for her that it should be so." In +those days the posters had been seen, and the flitting to Pau had +been talked of, and the Framley opinion was that Grace had better +remain at Framley till she should be carried off to Pau. There were +schemes, too, about Jane. But what was to be done for the wife? And +what was to be done for Mr Crawley? Then came the news from Mrs +Arabin, and all interest in Judge Medlicote was at an end.</p> + +<p>But even now, after this great escape, what was to be done? As to +Grace, she had felt the absolute necessity of being obedient to her +friends,—with the consent of course of her mother,—during the great +tribulation of her family. Things were so bad that she had not the +heart to make them worse by giving any unnecessary trouble as to +herself. Having resolved,—and having made her mother so +understand,—that on one point she would guide herself by her own +feelings, she was contented to go hither and thither as she was told, +and to do as she was bid. Her hope was that Miss Prettyman would +allow her to go back to her teaching, but it had come to be +understood among them all that nothing was to be said on that subject +till the trial should be over. Till that time she would be passive. +But then, as I have said, had come the news from Mrs Arabin, and +Grace, with all the others, understood that there would be no trial. +When this was known and acknowledged, she declared her purpose of +going back to Hogglestock. She would go back at once. When asked both +by Lady Lufton and by Mrs Robarts why she was in so great a haste, +she merely said that it must be so. She was, as it were, absolved +from her passive obedience to Framley authorities by the diminution +of the family misfortunes.</p> + +<p>Mrs Robarts understood the feeling by which Grace was hurried away. +"Do you know why she is so obstinate?" Lady Lufton asked.</p> + +<p>"I think I do," said Mrs Robarts.</p> + +<p>"And what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Should Major Grantly renew his offer to her she is under a pledge to +accept him now."</p> + +<p>"Of course he will renew it, and of course she will accept him."</p> + +<p>"Just so. But she prefers that he should come for her to her own +house,—because of its poverty. If he chooses to seek her there, I +don't think she will make much difficulty." Lady Lufton demurred to +this, not however with anger, and expressed a certain amount of mild +displeasure. She did not quite see why Major Grantly should not be +allowed to come and do his love-making comfortably, where there was a +decent dinner for him to eat, and chairs and tables and sofas and +carpets. She said that she thought that something was due to Major +Grantly. She was in truth a little disappointed that she was not +allowed to have her own way, and to arrange the marriage at Framley +under her own eye. But, through it all, she appreciated Grace; and +they who knew her well and heard what she said upon the occasion, +understood that her favour was not to be withdrawn. All young women +were divided by old Lady Lufton into sheep and goats,—very white +sheep and very black goats;—and Grace was to be a sheep. Thus it +came to pass that Grace Crawley was at home when the dean visited +Hogglestock. "Mamma," she said, looking out of the window, "there is +the dean with papa at the gate."</p> + +<p>"It was a narrow squeak,—a very narrow squeak," Mr Crawley had said +when his friend had congratulated him on his escape. The dean felt at +the moment that not for many years had he heard the incumbent of +Hogglestock speak either of himself or of anything else with so +manifest an attempt at jocularity. Arabin had expected to find the +man broken down by the weight of his sorrows, and lo! at the first +moment of their first interview he himself began to ridicule them! +Crawley having thus alluded to the narrow squeak had asked his +visitor to enter the house and see his wife.</p> + +<p>"Of course I will," said Arabin, "but I will speak just a word to you +first." Jane, who had accompanied the dean from the school, now left +them, and went into the house to her mother. "My wife cannot forgive +herself about the cheque," continued he.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to be forgiven," said Mr Crawley; "nothing."</p> + +<p>"She feels that what she did was awkward and foolish. She ought never +to have paid a cheque away in such a manner. She knows that now."</p> + +<p>"It was given,—not paid," said Crawley; and as he spoke something of +the black cloud came back on his face. "And I am well aware how hard +Mrs Arabin strove to take away from the alms she bestowed the +bitterness of the sting of eleemosynary aid. If you please, Arabin, +we will not talk any more of that. I can never forget that I have +been a beggar, but I need not make my beggary the matter of +conversation. I hope the Holy Land has fulfilled your expectation?"</p> + +<p>"It has more than done so," said the dean, bewildered by the sudden +change.</p> + +<p>"For myself, it is, of course, impossible that I should ever visit +any scenes except those to which my immediate work may call +me,—never in this world. The new Jerusalem is still within my +reach,—if it be not forfeited by pride and obstinacy; but the old +Jerusalem I can never behold. Methinks, because it is so, I would +sooner stand with my foot on Mount Olivet, or drink a cup of water in +the village of Bethany, than visit any other spot within the +traveller's compass. The sources of the Nile, of which men now talk +so much,—I see it in the papers and reviews which the ladies at +Framley are so good as to send to my wife,—do not interest me much. +I have no ambition to climb Mont Blanc or the Matterhorn; Rome makes +my mouth water but little, nor even Athens much. I can realise +without seeing all that Athens could show me, and can fancy that the +existing truth would destroy more than it would build up. But to have +stood on Calvary!"</p> + +<p>"We don't know where Calvary was," said the dean.</p> + +<p>"I fancy that I should know,—should know enough," said the illogical +and unreasonable Mr Crawley. "Is it true that you can look over from +the spot on which He stood as He came across the brow of the hill, +and see the huge stones of the temple placed there by Solomon's +men,—as He saw them,—right across the brook Cedron, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"It is all there, Crawley,—just as your knowledge of it tells you."</p> + +<p>"In the privilege of seeing those places I can almost envy a man +his—money." The last words he uttered after a pause. He had been +about to say that under such temptation he could almost envy a man +his promotion; but he bethought himself that on such an occasion as +this it would be better that he should spare the dean. "And now, if +you wish it, we will go in. I fancy that I see my wife at the window, +as though she were waiting for us." So saying, he strode on along the +little path, and the dean was fain to follow him, even though he had +said so little of all that he had intended to say.</p> + +<p>As soon as he was with Mrs Crawley he repeated his apology about the +cheque, and found himself better able to explain himself than he +could do when he was alone with her husband. "Of course, it has been +our fault," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Mrs Crawley, "how can you have been in fault when your +only object was to do us good?" But, nevertheless, the dean took the +blame upon his own shoulders, or, rather upon those of his wife, and +declared himself to be responsible for all the trouble about the +cheque.</p> + +<p>"Let it go," said Crawley, after sitting awhile in silence; "let it +pass."</p> + +<p>"You cannot wonder, Crawley," said the dean, "that I should have felt +myself obliged to speak of it."</p> + +<p>"For the future it will be well that it should be forgotten," said +Crawley; "or, if not forgotten, treated as though forgotten. And now, +dean, what must I do about the living?"</p> + +<p>"Just resume it, as though nothing happened."</p> + +<p>"But that may hardly be done without the bishop's authority. I speak, +of course, with deference to your higher and better information on +such subjects. My experience in the taking up and laying down of +livings has not been extended. But it seemeth to me that though it +may certainly be in your power to nominate me again to the perpetual +curacy of this parish,—presuming your patronage to be unlimited and +not to reach you in rotation only,—yet the bishop may demand to +institute again, and must so demand, unless he pleases to permit that +my letter to him shall be revoked and cancelled."</p> + +<p>"Of course he will not do anything of that kind. He must know the +circumstances as well as you and I do."</p> + +<p>"At present they tell me he is much afflicted by the death of his +wife, and, therefore, can hardly be expected to take immediate +action. There came here on the last Sunday one Mr Snapper, his +lordship's chaplain."</p> + +<p>"We all know Snapper," said the dean. "Snapper is not a bad little +fellow."</p> + +<p>"I say nothing of his being bad, my friend, but merely mention the +fact that on Sunday morning last he performed the service in our +church. On the Sunday previous, one Mr Thumble was here."</p> + +<p>"We all know Thumble, too," said the dean; "or, at least, know +something about him."</p> + +<p>"He has been a thorn in our sides," said Mrs Crawley, unable to +restrain the expression of her dislike when Mr Thumble's name was +mentioned.</p> + +<p>"Nay, my dear, nay;—do not allow yourself the use of language so +strong against a brother. Our flesh at that time was somewhat prone +to fester, and little thorns made us very sore."</p> + +<p>"He is a horrible man," said Jane, almost in a whisper; but the words +were distinctly audible by the dean.</p> + +<p>"They need not come any more," said Arabin.</p> + +<p>"That is where I fear we differ. I think they must come,—or some +others in their place,—till the bishop shall have expressed his +pleasure to the contrary. I have submitted myself to his lordship, +and, having done so, I feel that I cannot again go up into my pulpit +till he shall have authorised me to do so. For a time, Arabin, I +combatted the bishop, believing,—then as now,—that he put forth his +hand against me after a fashion which the law had not sanctioned. And +I made bold to stand in his presence and to tell him that I would not +obey him, except in things legal. But afterwards, when he proceeded +formally, through the action of a commission, I submitted myself. And +I regard myself still as being under submission."</p> + +<p>It was impossible to shake him. Arabin remained there for more than +an hour, trying to pass on to another subject, but being constantly +brought back by Mr Crawley himself to the fact of his own dependent +position. Nor would he condescend to supplicate the bishop. It was, +he surmised, the duty of Dr Tempest, together with the other four +clergymen, to report to the bishop on the question of the alleged +theft; and then doubtless the bishop, when he had duly considered the +report, and,—as Mr Crawley seemed to think was essentially +necessary,—had sufficiently recovered from the grief of his wife's +death, would, at his leisure, communicate his decision to Mr Crawley. +Nothing could be more complete than Mr Crawley's humility in +reference to the bishop; and he never seemed to be tired of declaring +that he had submitted himself!</p> + +<p>And then the dean, finding it to be vain to expect to be left alone +with Mr Crawley for a moment,—in vain also to wait for a proper +opening for that which he had to say,—rushed violently at his other +subject. "And now, Mrs Crawley," he said. "Mrs Arabin wishes you all +to come over to the deanery for a while and stay with us."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Arabin is too kind," said Mrs Crawley, looking across at her +husband.</p> + +<p>"We should like it of all things," said the dean, with perhaps more +of good nature than of truth. "Of course you must have been knocked +about a good deal."</p> + +<p>"Indeed we have," said Mrs Crawley.</p> + +<p>"And till you are somewhat settled again, I think that the change of +scene would be good for all of you. Come, Crawley, I'll talk to you +every evening about Jerusalem for as long as you please;—and then +there will perhaps come back to us something of the pleasantness of +old days." As she heard this Mrs Crawley's eyes became full of tears, +and she could not altogether hide them. What she had endured during +the last four months had almost broken her spirit. The burden had at +last been too heavy for her strength. "You cannot fancy, Crawley, how +often I have thought of the old days and wished that they might +return. I have found it very hard to get an opportunity of saying so +much to you; but I will say it now."</p> + +<p>"It may hardly be as you say," said Crawley, grimly.</p> + +<p>"You mean that the old days can never be brought back?"</p> + +<p>"Assuredly they cannot. But it was not that that I meant. It may not +be that I and mine should transfer ourselves to your roof and sojourn +there."</p> + +<p>"Why should you not?"</p> + +<p>"The reasons are many, and on the face of things. The reason, +perhaps, the most on the face of it is to be found in my wife's gown, +and in my coat." This Mr Crawley said very gravely, looking neither +to the right nor to the left nor at the face of any of them, nor at +his own garment, nor at hers, but straight before him; and when he +had so spoken he said not a word further,—not going on to dilate on +his poverty as the dean expected that he would do.</p> + +<p>"At such a time such reasons should stand for nothing," said the +dean.</p> + +<p>"And why not now as they always do, and always must till the power of +tailors shall have waned, and the daughters of Eve shall toil and +spin no more? Like to like is true, and should be held to be true, of +all societies and of all compacts for co-operation and mutual living. +Here, where, if I may venture to say so, you and I are like to +like;—for the new gloss of your coat;"—the dean, as it happened, +had on at the moment a very old coat, his oldest coat, selected +perhaps with some view to this special visit,—"does not obtrude +itself in my household, as would be the threadbare texture of mine in +yours;—I can open my mouth to you and converse with you at my ease; +you are now to me that Frank Arabin who has so comforted me and so +often confuted me; whom I may perhaps on an occasion have +confuted—and perhaps have comforted. But were I sitting with you in +your library in Barchester, my threadbare coat would be too much for +me. I should be silent, if not sullen. I should feel the weight of +all my poverty, and the greater weight of all your wealth. For my +children, let them go. I have come to know that they will be better +away from me."</p> + +<p>"Papa!" said Jane.</p> + +<p>"Papa does not mean it," said Grace, coming up to him and standing +close to him.</p> + +<p>There was silence amongst them for a few moments, and then the master +of the house shook himself,—literally shook himself, till he had +shaken off the cloud. He had taken Grace by the hand, and thrusting +out the other arm had got it round Jane's waist. "When a man has +girls, Arabin," he said, "as you have, but not big girls yet like +Grace here, of course he knows that they will fly away."</p> + +<p>"I shall not fly away," said Jane.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what papa means," said Grace.</p> + +<p>Upon the whole the dean thought it the pleasantest visit he had ever +made to Hogglestock, and when he got home he told his wife that he +believed that the accusation made against Mr Crawley had done him +good. "I could not say a word in private to her," he said, "but I did +promise that you would go in and see her." On the very next day Mrs +Arabin went over, and I think that the visit was a comfort to Mrs +Crawley.</p> + + +<p><a name="c80" id="c80"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXX</h3> +<h3>Miss Demolines Desires to Become a Finger-post<br /> </h3> + + +<p>John Eames had passed Mrs Thorne in the hall of her own house almost +without noticing her as he took his departure from Lily Dale. She had +told him as plainly as words could speak that she could not bring +herself to be his wife,—and he had believed her. He had sworn to +himself that if he did not succeed now he would never ask her again. +"It would be foolish and unmanly to do so," he said to himself as he +rushed along the street towards his club. No! That romance was over. +At last there had come an end to it! "It has taken a good bit out of +me," he said, arresting his steps suddenly that he might stand still +and think of it all. "By George, yes! A man doesn't go through that +kind of thing without losing some of the caloric. I couldn't do it +again if an angel came in my way." He went to his club, and tried to +be jolly. He ordered a good dinner, and got some man to come and dine +with him. For an hour or so he held himself up, and did appear to be +jolly. But as he walked home at night, and gave himself time to think +over what had taken place with deliberation, he stopped in the gloom +of a deserted street and leaning against the rails burst into tears. +He had really loved her and she was never to be his. He had wanted +her,—and it is so painful a thing to miss what you want when you +have done your very best to obtain it! To struggle in vain always +hurts the pride; but the wound made by the vain struggle for a woman +is sorer than any wound so made. He gnashed his teeth, and struck the +iron railings with his stick;—and then he hurried home, swearing +that he would never give another thought to Lily Dale. In the dead of +the night, thinking of it still, he asked himself whether it would +not be a fine thing to wait another ten years, and then go to her +again. In such a way would he not make himself immortal as a lover +beyond any Jacob or any Leander?</p> + +<p>The next day he went to his office and was very grave. When Sir +Raffle complimented him on being back before his time, he simply said +that when he had accomplished that for which he had gone, he had, of +course, come back. Sir Raffle could not get a word out from him about +Mr Crawley. He was very grave, and intent upon his work. Indeed he +was so serious that he quite afflicted Sir Raffle;—whose mock +activity felt itself to be confounded by the official zeal of his +private secretary. During the whole of that day Johnny was resolving +that there could be no cure for his malady but hard work. He would +not only work hard at the office if he remained there, but he would +take to heavy reading. He rather thought that he would go deep into +Greek and do a translation, or take up the exact sciences and make a +name for himself that way. But as he had enough for the life of a +secluded literary man without his salary, he rather thought he would +give up his office altogether. He had a mutton chop at home that +evening, and spent his time in endeavouring to read out aloud to +himself certain passages from the Iliad;—for he had bought a Homer +as he returned from his office. At nine o'clock he went, half-price, +to the Strand Theatre. How he met there his old friend Boulger and +went afterwards to "The Cock" and had a supper need not here be told +with more accurate detail.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the next day he was bound by his appointment to go +to Porchester Terrace. In the moments of his enthusiasm about Homer +he had declared to himself that he would never go near Miss Demolines +again. Why should he? All that kind of thing was nothing to him now. +He would simply send her his compliments and say that he was +prevented by business from keeping his engagement. She, of course, +would go on writing to him for a time, but he would simply leave her +letters unanswered, and the thing, of course, would come to an end at +last. He afterwards said something to Boulger about Miss +Demolines,—but that was during the jollity of their supper,—and he +then declared that he would follow out that little game. "I don't see +why a fellow isn't to amuse himself, eh, Boulger, old boy?" Boulger +winked and grinned, and said that some amusements were dangerous. "I +don't think that there is any danger there," said Johnny. "I don't +believe she is thinking of that kind of thing herself;—not with me +at least. What she likes is the pretence of a mystery; and as it is +amusing I don't see why a fellow shouldn't indulge her." But that +determination was pronounced after two mutton chops at "The Cock", +between one and two o'clock in the morning. On the next day he was +cooler and wiser. Greek he thought might be tedious as he discovered +that he would have to begin again from the very alphabet. He would +therefore abandon that idea. Greek was not the thing for him, but he +would take up the sanitary condition of the poor in London. A fellow +could be of some use in that way. In the meantime he would keep his +appointment with Miss Demolines, simply because it was an +appointment. A gentleman should always keep his word to a lady!</p> + +<p>He did keep his appointment with Miss Demolines, and was with her +almost precisely at the hour she had named. She received him with a +mysterious tranquillity which almost perplexed him. He remembered, +however, that the way to enjoy the society of Miss Demolines was to +take her in all her moods with perfect seriousness, and was therefore +very tranquil himself. On the present occasion she did not rise as he +entered the room, and hardly spoke as she tendered to him the tips of +her fingers to be touched. As she said almost nothing, he said +nothing at all, but sank into a chair and stretched his legs out +comfortably before him. It had been always understood between them +that she was to bear the burden of the conversation.</p> + +<p>"You'll have a cup of tea?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—if you do." Then the page brought the tea, and John Eames +amused himself by swallowing three slices of very thin bread and +butter.</p> + +<p>"Non for me,—thanks," said Madalina. "I rarely eat after dinner, and +not often much then. I fancy that I should best like a world in which +there was no eating."</p> + +<p>"A good dinner is a very good thing," said John. And then there was +again silence. He was aware that some great secret was to be told him +this evening, but he was much too discreet to show any curiosity upon +that subject. He sipped his tea to the end, and then, having got up +to put his cup down, stood on the rug with his back to the fire. +"Have you been out to-day?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I have."</p> + +<p>"And you are tired?"</p> + +<p>"Very tired!"</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps I had better not keep you up."</p> + +<p>"Your remaining will make no difference in that respect. I don't +suppose that I shall be in bed for the next four hours. But do as you +like about going."</p> + +<p>"I am in no hurry," said Johnny. Then he sat down again, stretched +out his legs and made himself comfortable.</p> + +<p>"I have been to see that woman," said Madalina after a pause.</p> + +<p>"What woman?"</p> + +<p>"Maria Clutterbuck,—as I must always call her; for I cannot bring +myself to pronounce the name of that poor wretch who was done to +death."</p> + +<p>"He blew his brains out in delirium tremens," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"And what made him drink?" said Madalina with emphasis. "Never mind. +I decline altogether to speak of it. Such a scene as I have had! I +was driven at last to tell her what I thought of her. Anything so +callous, so heartless, so selfish, so stone-cold, and so childish, I +never saw before! That Maria was childish and selfish I always +knew;—but I thought there was some heart,—a vestige of heart. I +found to-day that there was none,—none. If you please we won't speak +of her any more."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"You need not wonder that I am tired and feverish."</p> + +<p>"That sort of thing is fatiguing, I dare say. I don't know whether we +do not lose more than we gain by those strong emotions."</p> + +<p>"I would rather die and go beneath the sod at once, than live without +them," said Madalina.</p> + +<p>"It's a matter of taste," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"It is there that that poor wretch is so deficient. She is thinking +now, this moment, of nothing but her creature comforts. That tragedy +has not even stirred her pulses."</p> + +<p>"If her pulses were stirred ever so, that would not make her happy."</p> + +<p>"Happy! Who is happy? Are you happy?"</p> + +<p>Johnny thought of Lily Dale and paused before he answered. No; +certainly he was not happy. But he was not going to talk about his +unhappiness to Miss Demolines! "Of course I am;—as jolly as a +sandboy," he said.</p> + +<p>"Mr Eames," said Madalina raising herself on her sofa, "if you can +not express yourself in language more suitable to the occasion and to +the scene than that, I think that you had +better<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"Hold my tongue."</p> + +<p>"Just so;—though I should not have chosen myself to use words so +abruptly discourteous."</p> + +<p>"What did I say;—jolly as a sandboy? There is nothing wrong in that. +What I meant was, that I think that this world is a very good sort of +world, and that a man can get along in it very well if he minds his +<i>p</i>'s and <i>q</i>'s."</p> + +<p>"But suppose it's a woman?"</p> + +<p>"Easier still."</p> + +<p>"And suppose she does not mind her <i>p</i>'s and <i>q</i>'s?"</p> + +<p>"Women always do."</p> + +<p>"Do they? Your knowledge of women goes as far as that, does it? Tell +me fairly;—do you think you know anything about women?" Madalina, as +she asked the question, looked full into his face, and shook her +locks and smiled. When she shook her locks and smiled, there was a +certain attraction about her of which John Eames was fully sensible. +She could throw a special brightness into her eyes, which, though it +probably betokened nothing beyond ill-natured mischief, seemed to +convey a promise of wit and intellect.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to make any boast about it," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"I doubt whether you know anything. The pretty simplicity of your +excellent Lily Dale has sufficed for you."</p> + +<p>"Never mind about her," said Johnny impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I do not mind about her in the least. But an insight into that sort +of simplicity will not teach the character of a real woman. You +cannot learn the flavour of wines by sipping sherry and water. For +myself I do not think that I am simple. I own it fairly. If you must +have simplicity, I cannot be to your taste."</p> + +<p>"Nobody likes partridge always," said Johnny, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I understand you, sir. And though what you say is not complimentary, +I am willing to forgive that fault for its truth. I don't consider +myself to be always partridge, I can assure you. I am as changeable +as the moon."</p> + +<p>"And as fickle?"</p> + +<p>"I say nothing about that, sir. I leave you to find that out. It is a +man's business to discover that for himself. If you really do know +aught of women<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"I did not say that I did."</p> + +<p>"But if you do, you will perhaps have discovered that a woman may be +as changeable as the moon, and yet as true as the sun;—that she may +flit from flower to flower, quite unheeding while no passion exists, +but that a passion fixes her at once. Do you believe me?" Now she +looked into his eyes again, but did not smile and did not shake her +locks.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes;—that's true enough. And when they have a lot of children, +then they become steady as milestones."</p> + +<p>"Children!" said Madalina, getting up and walking about the room.</p> + +<p>"They do have them, you know," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say, sir, that I should be a milestone?"</p> + +<p>"A finger-post," said Johnny, "to show a fellow the way he ought to +go."</p> + +<p>She walked twice across the room without speaking. Then she came and +stood opposite to him, still without speaking,—and then she walked +about again. "What could a woman better be, than a finger-post, as +you call it, with such a purpose?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing better, of course;—though a milestone to tell a fellow his +distances, is very good."</p> + +<p>"Psha!"</p> + +<p>"You don't like the idea of being a milestone."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"Then you can make up your mind to be a finger-post."</p> + +<p>"John, shall I be finger-post for you?" She stood and looked at him +for a moment or two, with her eyes full of love, as though she were +going to throw herself into his arms. And she would have done so, no +doubt, instantly, had he risen to his legs. As it was, after having +gazed at him for the moment with her love-laden eyes, she flung +herself on the sofa, and hid her face among the cushions.</p> + +<p>He had felt that it was coming for the last quarter of an hour,—and +he had felt, also, that he was quite unable to help himself. He did +not believe that he should ever be reduced to marrying Miss +Demolines, but he did see plainly enough that he was getting into +trouble; and yet, for his life, he could not help himself. The moth +who flutters round the light knows that he is being burned, and yet +he cannot fly away from it. When Madalina had begun to talk to him +about women in general, and then about herself, and had told him that +such a woman as herself,—even one so liable to the disturbance of +violent emotions,—might yet be as true and honest as the sun, he +knew that he ought to get up and make his escape. He did not exactly +know how the catastrophe would come, but he was quite sure that if he +remained there he would be called upon in some way for a declaration +of his sentiments,—and that the call would be one which all his wit +would not enable him to answer with any comfort. It was very well +jesting about milestones, but every jest brought him nearer to the +precipice. He perceived that however ludicrous might be the image +which his words produced, she was clever enough in some way to turn +that image to her own purpose. He had called a woman a finger-post, +and forthwith she had offered to come to him and be a finger-post to +him for life! What was he to say to her? It was clear that he must +say something. As at this moment she was sobbing violently, he could +not pass the offer by as a joke. Women will say that his answer +should have been very simple, and his escape very easy. But men will +understand that it is not easy to reject even a Miss Demolines when +she offers herself for matrimony. And, moreover,—as Johnny bethought +himself at this crisis of his fate,—Lady Demolines was no doubt at +the other side of the drawing-room door, ready to stop him, should he +attempt to run away. In the meantime the sobs on the sofa became +violent, and still more violent. He had not even yet made up his mind +what to do, when Madalina, springing to her feet, stood before him, +with her curls wildly waving and her arms extended. "Let it be as +though it were unsaid," she exclaimed. John Eames had not the +slightest objection; but, nevertheless, there was a difficulty even +in this. Were he simply to assent to this latter proposition, it +could not be but that the feminine nature of Miss Demolines would be +outraged by so uncomplimentary an acquiescence. He felt that he ought +at least to hesitate a little,—to make some pretence at closing upon +the rich offer that had been made to him; only that were he to show +any such pretence the rich offer would, no doubt, be repeated. His +Madalina had twitted him in the earlier part of their interview with +knowing nothing of the nature of women. He did know enough to feel +assured that any false step on his part now would lead him into very +serious difficulties. "Let it be as though it were unsaid! Why, oh +why, have I betrayed myself?" exclaimed Madalina.</p> + +<p>John had now risen from his chair, and coming up to her took her by +the arm and spoke a word. "Compose yourself," he said. He spoke in +his most affectionate voice, and he stood very close to her.</p> + +<p>"How easy it is to bid me to do that," said Madalina. "Tell the sea +to compose itself when it rages."</p> + +<p>"Madalina!" said he.</p> + +<p>"Well,—what of Madalina? Madalina has lost her own respect,—for +ever."</p> + +<p>"Do not say that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John—why did you ever come here? Why? Why did we meet at that +fatal woman's house? Or, meeting so, why did we not part as +strangers? Sir, why have you come here to my mother's house day after +day, evening after evening, if—. Oh, heavens, what am I saying? I +wonder whether you will scorn me always?"</p> + +<p>"I will never scorn you."</p> + +<p>"And you will pardon me?"</p> + +<p>"Madalina, there is nothing to pardon."</p> + +<p>"And—you will love me?" Then, without waiting for any more +encouraging reply,—unable, probably, to wait a moment longer, she +sunk upon his bosom. He caught her, of course,—and at that moment +the drawing-room door was opened, and Lady Demolines entered the +chamber. John Eames detected at a glance the skirt of the old white +dressing gown which he had seen whisking away on the occasion of his +last visit at Porchester Terrace. But on the present occasion Lady +Demolines wore over it a short red opera cloak, and the cap on her +head was ornamented with coloured ribbons. "What is this," she said, +"and why am I thus disturbed?" Madalina lay motionless in Johnny's +arms, while the old woman glowered at him from under the coloured +ribbons. "Mr Eames, what is it that I behold?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Your daughter, madam, seems to be a little unwell," said Johnny. +Madalina kept her feet firm upon the ground, but did not for a moment +lose her purchase against Johnny's waistcoat. Her respirations came +very strong, but they came a good deal stronger when he mentioned the +fact that she was not so well as she might be.</p> + +<p>"Unwell!" said Lady Demolines. And John was stricken at the moment +with a conviction that her ladyship must have passed the early part +of her life upon the stage. "You would trifle with me, sir. Beware +that you do not trifle with her,—with Madalina."</p> + +<p>"My mother," said Madalina; but still she did not give up her +purchase, and the voice seemed to come half from her and half from +Johnny. "Come to me, my mother." Then Lady Demolines hastened to her +daughter, and Madalina between them was gradually laid at her length +upon the sofa. The work of laying her out, however, was left almost +entirely to the stronger arm of Mr John Eames. "Thanks, mother," said +Madalina; but she had not as yet opened her eyes, even for an +instant. "Perhaps I had better go now," said Johnny. The old woman +looked at him with eyes which asked whether "he didn't wish he might +get it" as plainly as though the words had been pronounced. "Of +course I'll wait if I can be of any service," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"I must know more of this, sir, before you leave the house," said +Lady Demolines. He saw that between them both there might probably be +a very bad quarter of an hour in store for him; but he swore to +himself that no union of dragon and tigress should extract from him a +word that could be taken as a promise of marriage.</p> + +<p>The old woman was now kneeling by the head of the sofa, and Johnny +was standing close by her side. Suddenly Madalina opened her +eyes,—opened them very wide and gazed around her. Then slowly she +raised herself on the sofa, and turned her face first upon her mother +and then upon Johnny. "You here, mamma!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Dearest one, I am near you. Be not afraid," said her ladyship.</p> + +<p>"Afraid! Why should I be afraid? John! My own John! Mamma, he is my +own." And she put out her arms to him, as though calling to him to +come to her. Things were now very bad with John Eames,—so bad that +he would have given a considerable lump out of Lord De Guest's legacy +to be able to escape at once into the street. The power of a woman, +when she chooses to use it recklessly, is, for the moment, almost +unbounded.</p> + +<p>"I hope you find yourself a little better," said John, struggling to +speak, as though he were not utterly crushed by the occasion.</p> + +<p>Lady Demolines slowly raised herself from her knees, helping herself +with her hands against the shoulder of the sofa,—for though still +very clever, she was old and stiff,—and then offered both her hands +to Johnny. Johnny cautiously took one of them, finding himself unable +to decline them both. "My son!" she exclaimed; and before he knew +where he was the old woman had succeeded in kissing his nose and +whiskers. "My son!" she said again.</p> + +<p>Now that the time had come for facing the dragon and the tigress in +their wrath. If they were to be faced at all, the time for facing +them had certainly arrived. I fear that John's heart sank low in his +bosom at that moment. "I don't quite understand," he said, almost in +a whisper. Madalina put out one arm towards him, and the fingers +trembled. Her lips were opened, and the white row of interior ivory +might be seen plainly; but at the present conjuncture of affairs she +spoke not a word. She spoke not a word; but her arm remained +stretched out towards him, and her fingers did not cease to tremble.</p> + +<p>"You do not understand!" said Lady Demolines, drawing herself back, +and looking, in her short open cloak, like a knight who has donned +his cuirass, but has forgotten to put on his leg-gear. And she shook +the bright ribbons of her cap, as a knight in his wrath shakes the +crest of his helmet. "You do not understand, Mr Eames! What is it, +sir, that you do not understand?"</p> + +<p>"There is some misconception, I mean," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Mother!" said Madalina, turning her eyes from her recent lover to +her tender parent; trembling all over, but still keeping her hand +extended. "Mother!"</p> + +<p>"My darling! But leave him to me, dearest. Compose yourself."</p> + +<p>"'Twas the word that he said—this moment; before he pressed me to +his heart."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were fainting," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Sir!" And Lady Demolines, as she spoke, shook her crest, and glared +at him, and almost flew at him in her armour.</p> + +<p>"It may be that nature has given way with me, and that I have been in +a dream," said Madalina.</p> + +<p>"That which mine eyes saw was no dream," said Lady Demolines. "Mr +Eames, I have given to you the sweetest name that can fall from an +old woman's lips. I have called you my son."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you did, I know. But, as I said before, there is some mistake. +I know how proud I ought to be, and how happy, and all that kind of +thing. But<span class="nowrap">—"</span> Then +there came a screech from Madalina, which would +have awakened the dead, had there been any dead in that house. The +page and cook, however, took no notice of it, whether they were +awakened or not. And having screeched, Madalina stood erect upon the +floor, and she also glared upon her recreant lover. The dragon and +the tigress were there before him now, and he knew that it behoved +him to look to himself. As he had a battle to fight, might it not be +best to put a bold face upon it? "The truth is," said he, "that I +don't understand this kind of thing at all."</p> + +<p>"Not understand it, sir?" said the dragon.</p> + +<p>"Leave him to me, mother," said the tigress, shaking her head again, +but with a kind of shake differing from that which she had used +before. "This is my business, and I'll have it out for myself. If he +thinks I'm going to put up with his nonsense he's mistaken. I've been +straightforward and above board with you, Mr Eames, and I expect to +be treated in the same way in return. Do you mean to tell my mother +that you deny that we are engaged?"</p> + +<p>"Well; yes; I do. I'm very sorry, you know, if I seem to be +uncivil<span class="nowrap">—"</span></p> + +<p>"It's because I've no brother," said the tigress. "He thinks that I +have no man near me to protect me. But he shall find that I can +protect myself. John Eames, why are you treating me like this?"</p> + +<p>"I shall consult my cousin the serjeant to-morrow," said the dragon. +"In the meantime he must remain in this house. I shall not allow the +front door to be unlocked for him."</p> + +<p>This, I think, was the bitterest moment of all to Johnny. To be +confined all night in Lady Demolines's drawing-room would, of itself, +be an intolerable nuisance. And then the absurdity of the thing, and +the story that would go abroad! And what would he say to the dragon's +cousin the serjeant, if the serjeant should be brought upon the field +before he was able to escape from it? He did not know what a serjeant +might not do to him in such circumstances. There was one thing no +serjeant should do, and no dragon! Between them all they should never +force him to marry the tigress. At this moment Johnny heard a tramp +along the pavement, and he rushed to the window. Before the dragon or +even the tigress could arrest him, he had thrown up the sash, and had +appealed in his difficulty to the guardian of the night. "I say, old +fellow," said Johnny, "don't you stir from that till I tell you." The +policeman turned his bull's-eye upon the window, and stood perfectly +motionless. "Now, if you please, I'll say good-night," said Johnny. +But, as he spoke he still held the open window in his hand.</p> + +<p>"What means this violence in my house?" said the dragon.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, you had better let him go," said the tigress. "We shall know +where to find him."</p> + +<p>"You will certainly be able to find me," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Go," said the dragon, shaking her crest,—shaking all her armour at +him,—"dastard, go!"</p> + +<p>"Policeman," shouted Johnny, while he still held the open window in +his hand, "mind you don't stir till I come out." The bull's-eye was +shifted a little, but the policeman spoke never a word.</p> + +<p>"I wish you good-night, Lady Demolines," said Johnny. "Good-night, +Miss Demolines." Then he left the window and made a run for the door. +But the dragon was there before him.</p> + +<p>"Let him go, mamma," said the tigress as she closed the window. "We +shall only have a rumpus."</p> + +<p>"That will be all," said Johnny. "There isn't the slightest use in +your trying to keep me here."</p> + +<p>"And are we never to see you again?" said the tigress, almost +languishing again with one eye.</p> + +<p>"Well; no. What would be the use? No man likes to be shut in, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Go, then," said the tigress; "but if you think that this is to be +the end of it you'll find yourself wonderfully mistaken. You poor +false, drivelling creature! Lily Dale won't touch you with a pair of +tongs. It's no use your going to her."</p> + +<p>"Go away, sir, this moment, and don't contaminate my room an instant +longer by your presence," said the dragon, who had observed through +the window that the bull's-eye was still in full force before the +house. Then John Eames withdrew, and descending into the hall made +his way in the dark to the front door. For aught he knew there might +still be treachery in regard to the lock; but his heart was comforted +as he heard the footfall of the policeman on the door-step. With much +fumbling he succeeded at last in turning the key and drawing the +bolt, and then he found himself at liberty in the street. Before he +even spoke a word to the policeman he went out into the road and +looked up at the window. He could just see the figure of the dragon's +helmet as she was closing the shutters. It was the last he ever saw +of Lady Demolines or of her daughter.</p> + +<p>"What was it all about?" said the policeman.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I can just tell you," said Johnny, searching in +his pocket-book for half a sovereign which he tendered to the man. +"There was a little difficulty, and I'm obliged to you for waiting."</p> + +<p>"There ain't nothing wrong?" said the man suspiciously, hesitating +for a moment before he accepted the coin.</p> + +<p>"Nothing on earth. I'll wait with you, while you have the house +opened and inquire, if you wish it. The truth is somebody inside +refused to have the door opened, and I didn't want to stay there all +night."</p> + +<p>"They're a rummy couple, if what I hear is true."</p> + +<p>"They are a rummy couple," said Johnny.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's all right," said the policeman, taking the money. And +then John walked off home by himself, turning in his mind all the +circumstances of his connection with Miss Demolines. Taking his own +conduct as a whole, he was rather proud of it; but he acknowledged to +himself that it would be well that he should keep himself free from +the society of Madalinas for the future.</p> + + +<p><a name="c81" id="c81"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXI</h3> +<h3>Barchester Cloisters<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On the morning of the Sunday after the dean's return Mr Harding was +lying in his bed, and Posy was sitting on the bed beside him. It was +manifest to all now that he became feebler and feebler from day to +day, and that he would never leave his bed again. Even the archdeacon +had shaken his head, and had acknowledged to his wife that the last +day for her father was near at hand. It would very soon be necessary +that he should select another vicar for St Ewold's.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa won't play cat's-cradle," said Posy, as Mrs Arabin entered +the room.</p> + +<p>"No, darling,—not this morning," said the old man. He himself well +knew that he would never play cat's-cradle again. Even that was over +for him now.</p> + +<p>"She teases you, papa," said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said he. "Posy never teases me;" and he slowly moved +his withered hand down outside the bed, so as to hold the child by +her frock. "Let her stay with me, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Dr Filgrave is downstairs, papa. You will see him, if he comes up?" +Now Dr Filgrave was the leading physician of Barchester, and nobody +of note in the city,—or for the matter of that in the eastern +division of the county,—was allowed to start upon the last great +journey without some assistance from him as the hour of going drew +nigh. I do not know that he had much reputation for prolonging life, +but he was supposed to add a grace to the hour of departure. Mr +Harding expressed no wish to see the doctor,—had rather declared his +conviction that Dr Filgrave could be of no possible service to him. +But he was not a man to persevere in his objection in opposition to +the wishes of his friends around him; and as soon as the archdeacon +had spoken a word on the subject he assented.</p> + +<p>"Of course, my dear, I will see him."</p> + +<p>"And Posy shall come back when he has gone," said Mrs Arabin.</p> + +<p>"Posy will do me more good than Dr Filgrave I am quite sure;—but +Posy shall go now." So Posy scrambled off the bed, and the doctor was +ushered into the room.</p> + +<p>"A day or two will see the end of it, Mr Archdeacon;—I should say a +day or two," said the doctor, as he met Dr Grantly in the hall. "I +should say that a day or two will see the end of it. Indeed I will +not undertake that twenty-four hours may not see the close of his +earthly troubles. He has no suffering, no pain, no disturbing cause. +Nature simply retires to rest." Dr Filgrave, as he said this, made a +slow falling motion with his hands, which alone on various occasions +had been thought to be worth all the money paid for his attendance. +"Perhaps you would wish that I should step in in the evening, Mr +Dean? As it happens, I shall be at liberty." The dean of course said +that he would take it as an additional favour. Neither the dean nor +the archdeacon had the slightest belief in Dr Filgrave, and yet they +would hardly have been contented that their father-in-law should have +departed without him.</p> + +<p>"Look at that man, now," said the archdeacon, when the doctor had +gone, "who talks so glibly about nature going to rest. I've known him +all my life. He's an older man by some months than our dear old +friend upstairs. And he looks as if he were going to attend +death-beds in Barchester for ever."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he is right in what he tells us now?" said the dean.</p> + +<p>"No doubt he is; but my belief doesn't come from his saying it." Then +there was a pause as the two church dignitaries sat together, doing +nothing, feeling that the solemnity of the moment was such that it +would be hardly becoming that they should even attempt to read. "His +going will make an old man of me," said the archdeacon. "It will be +different with you."</p> + +<p>"It will make an old woman of Eleanor, I fear."</p> + +<p>"I seem to have known him all my life," said the archdeacon. "I have +known him ever since I left college; and I have known him as one man +seldom does know another. There is nothing that he has done,—as I +believe nothing that he has thought,—with which I have not been +cognisant. I feel sure that he never had an impure fancy in his mind, +or a faulty wish in his heart. His tenderness has surpassed the +tenderness of woman; and yet, when occasion came for showing it, he +had all the spirit of a hero. I shall never forget his resignation of +the hospital, and all that I did and said to make him keep it."</p> + +<p>"But he was right?"</p> + +<p>"As Septimus Harding he was, I think, right; but it would have been +wrong in any other man. And he was right, too, about the deanery." +For promotion had once come in Mr Harding's way, and he, too, might +have been Dean of Barchester. "The fact is, he never was wrong. He +couldn't go wrong. He lacked guile, and he feared God,—and a man who +does both will never go far astray. I don't think he ever coveted +aught in his life,—except a new case for his violoncello and +somebody to listen to him when he played it." Then the archdeacon got +up, and walked about the room in his enthusiasm; and, perhaps, as he +walked some thoughts as to the sterner ambition of his own life +passed through his mind. What things had he coveted? Had he lacked +guile? He told himself that he had feared God,—but he was not sure +that he was telling himself true even in that.</p> + +<p>During the whole of the morning Mrs Arabin and Mrs Grantly were with +their father, and during the greater part of the day there was +absolute silence in the room. He seemed to sleep; and they, though +they knew that in truth that he was not sleeping, feared to disturb +him by a word. About two Mrs Baxter brought him his dinner, and he +did rouse himself, and swallowed a spoonful of soup and half a glass +of wine. At this time Posy came to him, and stood at the bedside, +looking at him with her great wide eyes. She seemed to be aware that +life had now gone so far with her dear old friend that she must not +be allowed to sit upon his bed again. But he put his hand out to her, +and she held it, standing quite still and silent. When Mrs Baxter +came to take away the tray, Posy's mother got up, and whispered a +word to the child. Then Posy went away, and her eyes never beheld the +old man again. That was a day which Posy never forgot,—not though +she should live to be much older than her grandfather was when she +thus left him.</p> + +<p>"It is so sweet to have you both here," he said, when he had been +lying silent for nearly an hour after the child had gone. Then they +got up, and came and stood close to him. "There is nothing left for +me to wish, my dears;—nothing." Not long after that he expressed a +desire that the two husbands,—his two sons-in-law,—should come to +him; and Mrs Arabin went to them, and brought them to the room. As he +took their hands he merely repeated the same words again. "There is +nothing left for me to wish, my dears;—nothing." He never spoke +again above his breath; but ever and anon his daughters, who watched +him, could see that he was praying. The two men did not stay with him +long, but returned to the gloom of the library. The gloom had almost +become the darkness of the night, and they were still sitting there +without any light, when Mrs Baxter entered the room. "The dear +gentleman is no more," said Mrs Baxter; and it seemed to the +archdeacon that the very moment of his father's death had repeated +itself. When Dr Filgrave called he was told that his services could +be of no further use. "Dear, dear!" said the doctor. "We are all +dust, Mrs Baxter; are we not?" There were people in Barchester who +pretended to know how often the doctor had repeated this little +formula during the last thirty years.</p> + +<p>There was no violence of sorrow in the house that night; but there +were aching hearts, and one heart so sore that it seemed that no cure +for its anguish could ever reach it. "He has always been with me," +Mrs Arabin said to her husband, as he strove to console her. "It was +not that I loved him better than Susan, but I have felt so much more +of his loving tenderness. The sweetness of his voice has been in my +ears almost daily since I was born."</p> + +<p>They buried him in the cathedral which he had loved so well, and in +which nearly all the work of his life had been done; and all +Barchester was there to see him laid in his grave within the +cloisters. There was no procession of coaches, no hearse, nor was +there any attempt at funereal pomp. From the dean's side door, across +the vaulted passage, and into the transept,—over the little step +upon which he had so nearly fallen when last he made his way out of +the building,—the coffin was carried on men's shoulders. It was but +a short journey from his bedroom to his grave. But the bell had been +tolling sadly all the morning, and the nave and the aisles and the +transepts, close up to the door leading from the transept into the +cloister, were crowded with those who had known the name and the +figure and the voice of Mr Harding as long as they had known +anything. Up to this day no one would have said specially that Mr +Harding was a favourite in the town. He had never been forward enough +in anything to become the acknowledged possessor of popularity. But, +now that he was gone, men and women told each other how good he had +been. They remembered the sweetness of his smile, and talked of +loving little words which he had spoken to them,—either years ago or +the other day, for his words had always been loving. The dean and the +archdeacon came first, shoulder to shoulder, and after them came +their wives. I do not know that it was the proper order for mourning, +but it was a touching sight to be seen, and was long remembered in +Barchester. Painful as it was for them, the two women would be there, +and the two sisters would walk together;—nor would they go before +their husbands. Then there were the archdeacon's two sons,—for the +Rev Charles Grantly had come to Plumstead on the occasion. And in the +vaulted passage which runs between the deanery and the end of the +transept all the chapter, with the choir, the prebendaries, with the +fat old chancellor, the precentor, and the minor canons down to the +little choristers,—they were all there, and followed in at the +transept door, two by two. And in the transept they were joined by +another clergyman who no one had expected to see that day. The bishop +was there, looking old and worn,—almost as though he were +unconscious of what he was doing. Since his wife's death no one had +seen him out of the palace or of the palace grounds till that day. +But there he was,—and they made way for him into the procession +behind the two ladies,—and the archdeacon, when he saw it, resolved +that there should be peace in his heart, if peace might be possible.</p> + +<p>They made their way into the cloisters where the grave had been +dug,—as many as might be allowed to follow. The place indeed was +open to all who chose to come; but they who had only slightly known +the man, refrained from pressing upon those who had a right to stand +around his coffin. But there was one other there whom the faithful +chronicler of Barchester should mention. Before any other one had +reached the spot, the sexton and the verger between them had led in +between them, among the graves beneath the cloisters, a blind man, +very old, with a wondrous stoop, but who must have owned a grand +stature before extreme old age had bent him, and they placed him +sitting on a stone in the corner of the archway. But as soon as the +shuffling of steps reached his ears, he raised himself with the aid +of his stick, and stood during the service leaning against the +pillar. The blind man was so old that he might almost have been Mr +Harding's father. This was John Bunce, bedesman from Hiram's +Hospital,—and none perhaps there had known Mr Harding better than he +had known him. When the earth had been thrown on to the coffin, and +the service was over, and they were about to disperse, Mrs Arabin +went up to the old man, and taking his hand between hers whispered a +word into his ear. "Oh, Miss Eleanor!", he said. "Oh, Miss Eleanor," +he said. "Oh, Miss Eleanor!" Within a fortnight he also was lying +within the cathedral precincts.</p> + +<p>And so they buried Mr Septimus Harding, formerly Warden of Hiram's +Hospital in the city of Barchester, of whom the chronicler may say +that that city never knew a sweeter gentleman or a better Christian.</p> + + +<p><a name="c82" id="c82"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXII</h3> +<h3>The Last Scene at Hogglestock<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The fortnight following Mr Harding's death was passed very quietly at +Hogglestock, for during that time no visitor made an appearance in +the parish except Mr Snapper on the Sundays. Mr Snapper, when he had +completed the service on the first of these Sundays, intimated to Mr +Crawley his opinion that probably that gentleman might himself wish +to resume his duties on the following Sabbath. Mr Crawley, however, +courteously declined to do anything of the kind. He said that it was +quite out of the question that he should do so without a direct +communication made to him from the bishop, or by the bishop's order. +The assizes had, of course, gone by, and all question of the trial +was over. Nevertheless,—as Mr Snapper said,—the bishop had not, as +yet, given any order. Mr Snapper was of opinion that the bishop in +these days was not quite himself. He had spoken to the bishop about +it and the bishop had told him peevishly,—"I must say quite +peevishly," Mr Snapper had said,—that nothing was to be done at +present. Mr Snapper was not the less clearly of opinion that Mr +Crawley might resume his duties. To this, however, Mr Crawley would +not assent.</p> + +<p>But even during this fortnight Mr Crawley had not remained altogether +neglected. Two days after Mr Harding's death he had received a note +from the dean in which he was advised not to resume the duties at +Hogglestock for the present. "Of course you can understand that we +have a sad house here for the present," the dean had said. "But as +soon as ever we are able to move in the matter we will arrange things +for you as comfortably as we can. I will see the bishop myself." Mr +Crawley had no ambitious idea of any comfort which might accrue to +him beyond that of an honourable return to his humble preferment at +Hogglestock; but, nevertheless, he was in this case minded to do as +the dean counselled him. He had submitted himself to the bishop, and +he would wait till the bishop absolved him from his submission.</p> + +<p>On the day after the funeral, the bishop had sent his compliments to +the dean with an expression of a wish that the dean would call upon +him on any early day that might be convenient with reference to the +position of Mr Crawley of Hogglestock. The note was in the bishop's +own handwriting and was as mild and civil as a bishop's note could +be. Of course the dean named an early day for the interview; but it +was necessary before he went to the bishop that he should discuss the +matter with the archdeacon. If St Ewold's might be given to Mr +Crawley, the Hogglestock difficulties would all be brought to an end. +The archdeacon, after the funeral, had returned to Plumstead, and +thither the dean went to him before he saw the bishop. He did +succeed,—he and Mrs Grantly between them,—but with very great +difficulty, in obtaining a conditional promise. They had both thought +that when the archdeacon became fully aware that Grace was to be his +daughter-in-law, he would at once have been delighted to have an +opportunity of extricating from his poverty a clergyman with whom it +was his fate to be so closely connected. But he fought the matter on +twenty different points. He declared at first that as it was his +primary duty to give to the people of St Ewold's the best clergyman +he could select for them he could not give the preference to Mr +Crawley, because Mr Crawley, in spite of all his zeal and piety, was +a man so quaint in his manners and so eccentric in his mode of speech +as not to be the best clergyman whom he could select. "What is my old +friend Thorne to do with a man in his parish who won't drink a glass +of wine with him?". For Ullathorne, the seat of that Mr Wilfred +Thorne who had been so guilty in the matter of the foxes, was +situated in the parish of St Ewold's. When Mrs Grantly proposed that +Mr Thorne's consent should be asked, the archdeacon became very +angry. He had never heard so unecclesiastical a proposition in his +life. It was his special duty to the best he could for Mr Thorne, but +it was specially his duty to do so without consulting Mr Thorne about +it. As the archdeacon's objection had been argued simply on the point +of a glass of wine, both the dean and Mrs Grantly thought that he was +unreasonable. But they had their point to gain, and therefore they +only flattered him. They were quite sure that Mr Thorne would like to +have a clergyman in the parish who would himself be closely connected +with the archdeacon. Then Dr Grantly alleged that he might find +himself in a trap. What if he conferred the living of St Ewold's on +Mr Crawley and after all there should be no marriage between his son +and Grace? "Of course they'll be married," said Mrs Grantly. "It's +all very well for you to say that, my dear; but the whole family are +so queer that there is no knowing what the girl may do. She may take +up some other fad now, and refuse him point blank." "She has never +taken up any fad," said Mrs Grantly, who now mounted almost to wrath +in defence of her future daughter-in-law, "and you are wrong to say +that she has. She has behaved beautifully;—as nobody knows better +than you do." Then the archdeacon gave way so far as to promise that +St Ewold's should be offered to Mr Crawley as soon as Grace Crawley +was in truth engaged to Henry Grantly.</p> + +<p>After that, the dean went to the palace. There had never been any +quarrelling between the bishop and the dean, either direct or +indirect;—nor, indeed, had the dean ever quarrelled even with Mrs +Proudie. But he had belonged the anti-Proudie faction. He had been +brought into the diocese by the Grantly interest; and therefore, +during Mrs Proudie's lifetime, he had always been accounted among the +enemies. There had never been any real intimacy between the houses. +Each house had always been asked to dine with the other house once a +year; but it had been understood that such dinings were +ecclesiastico-official, and not friendly. There had been the same +outside diocesan civility between even the palace and Plumstead. But +now, when the great chieftain of the palace was no more, and the +strength of the palace faction was gone, peace, or perhaps something +more than peace,—amity, perhaps, might be more easily arranged with +the dean than with the archdeacon. In preparation for such +arrangements the bishop had gone to Mr Harding's funeral.</p> + +<p>And now the dean went to the palace at the bishop's behest. He found +his lordship alone, and was received with almost reverential +courtesy. He thought that the bishop was looking wonderfully aged +since he last saw him, but did not perhaps take into account the +absence of clerical sleekness which was incidental to the bishop's +private life in his private room, and perhaps in a certain measure to +his recent great affliction. The dean had been in the habit of +regarding Dr Proudie as a man almost young for his age,—having been +in the habit of seeing him at his best, clothed in authority, +redolent of the throne, conspicuous as regarded his apron and outward +signs of episcopality. Much of all this was now absent. The bishop, +as he rose to greet the dean, shuffled with his old slippers, and his +hair was not brushed so becomingly as used to be the case when Mrs +Proudie was always near him.</p> + +<p>It was necessary that a word should be said by each as to the loss +which the other had suffered. "Mr Dean," said his lordship, "allow me +to offer you my condolements in regard to the death of that very +excellent clergyman and most worthy gentleman, your father-in-law."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my lord. He was excellent and worthy. I do not suppose +that I shall live to see any man who was more so. You also have a +great—a terrible loss."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr Dean, yes; yes, indeed, Mr Dean. That was a loss."</p> + +<p>"And hardly past the prime of life!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes;—just fifty-six,—and so strong! Was she not? At least +everybody thought so. And yet she was gone in a minute;—gone in a +minute. I haven't held up my head up since, Mr Dean."</p> + +<p>"It was a great loss, my lord; but you must struggle to bear it."</p> + +<p>"I do struggle. I am struggling. But it makes one feel so lonely in +this great house. Ah me! I often wish, Mr Dean, that it had pleased +Providence to have left me in some humble parsonage, where duty would +have been easier than it is here. But I will not trouble you with all +that. What are we to do, Mr Dean, about this poor Mr Crawley?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Crawley is a very old friend of mine, and a very dear friend."</p> + +<p>"Is he? Ah! A very worthy man, I am sure, and one who has been much +tried by undeserved adversities."</p> + +<p>"Most severely tried, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Sitting among the potsherds, like Job; has he not, Mr Dean? Well; +let us hope that all that is over. When this accusation about the +robbery was brought against him, I found myself bound to interfere."</p> + +<p>"He has no complaint to make on that score."</p> + +<p>"I hope not. I have not wished to be harsh, but what could I do, Mr +Dean? They told me that the civil authorities found the evidence so +strong against him that it could not be withstood."</p> + +<p>"It was very strong."</p> + +<p>"And we thought that he should at least be relieved, and we sent for +Dr Tempest, who is his rural dean." Then the bishop, remembering all +the circumstances of that interview with the Dr Tempest,—as to which +he had ever felt assured that one of the results of it was the death +of his wife, whereby there was no longer any "we" left in the palace +of Barchester,—sighed piteously, looking at the dean with a hopeless +face.</p> + +<p>"Nobody doubts, my lord, that you acted for the best."</p> + +<p>"I hope we did. I think we did. And now what shall we do? He has +resigned his living, both to you and to me, as I hear,—you being the +patron. It will simply be necessary, I think, that he should ask to +have the letters cancelled. Then, as I take it, there need be no +restitution. You cannot think, Mr Dean, how much I have thought about +it all."</p> + +<p>Then the dean unfolded his budget, and explained to the bishop how he +hoped that the living of St Ewold's, which was, after some +ecclesiastical fashion, attached to the rectory of Plumstead, and +which was now vacant by the demise of Mr Harding, might be conferred +by the archdeacon upon Mr Crawley. It was necessary to explain also +that this could not be done quite immediately, and in doing this the +dean encountered some little difficulty. The archdeacon, he said, +wished to be allowed another week to think about it; and therefore +perhaps provision for the duties at Hogglestock might yet be made for +a few Sundays. The bishop, the dean said, might easily understand +that, after what had occurred, Mr Crawley would hardly wish to go +again into that pulpit, unless he did so as resuming duties which +would necessarily be permanent with him. To all this the bishop +assented, but he was apparently struck with much wonder at the choice +made by the archdeacon. "I should have thought, Mr Dean," he said, +"that Mr Crawley was the last man to have suited the archdeacon's +choice."</p> + +<p>"The archdeacon and I married sisters, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Oh, ah! yes. And he puts the nomination of St Ewold's at your +disposition. I am sure I shall be delighted to institute so worthy a +gentleman as Mr Crawley." Then the dean took his leave of the +bishop,—as we will also. Poor dear bishop! I am inclined to think +that he was right in his regrets as to the little parsonage. Not that +his failure at Barchester, and his present consciousness of lonely +incompetence, were mainly due to any positive inefficiency on his own +part. He might have been a sufficiently good bishop, had it not been +that Mrs Proudie was so much more than a sufficiently good bishop's +wife. We will now say farewell to him, with a hope that the lopped +tree may yet become green again, and to some extent fruitful, +although all its beautiful head and richness of waving foliage have +been taken from it.</p> + +<p>About a week after this Henry Grantly rode over from Cosby Lodge to +Hogglestock. It has been just said that though the assizes had passed +by and though all question of Mr Crawley's guilt was now set aside, +no visitor had of late made his way over to Hogglestock. I fancy that +Grace Crawley forgot, in the fullness of her memory as to other +things, that Mr Harding, of whose death she heard, had been her +lover's grandfather,—and that therefore there might possibly be some +delay. Had there been much said between the mother and the daughter +about the lover, no doubt all this would have been explained; but +Grace was very reticent, and there were other matters in the +Hogglestock household which in those days occupied Mrs Crawley's +mind. How were they again to begin life? for, in very truth, life as +it had existed with them before, had been brought to an end. But +Grace remembered well the sort of compact which existed between her +and her lover;—the compact which had been made in very words between +herself and her lover's father. Complete in her estimation as had +been the heaven opened to her by Henry Grantly's offer, she had +refused it all,—lest she should bring disgrace upon him. But the +disgrace was not certain; and if her father should be made free from +it, then—then—then Henry Grantly ought to come to her and be at her +feet with all the expedition possible to him. That was her reading of +the compact. She had once declared, when speaking of the possible +disgrace which might attach itself to her family and to her name, +that her poverty did not "signify a bit". She was not ashamed of her +father,—only of the accusation against her father. Therefore she had +hurried home when that accusation was withdrawn, desirous that her +lover should tell her of his love,—if he chose to repeat such +telling,—amidst all the poor things of Hogglestock, and not among +the chairs and tables and good dinners of luxurious Framley. Mrs +Robarts had given a true interpretation to Lady Lufton of the haste +which Grace had displayed. But she need not have been in so great a +hurry. She had been at home already above a fortnight, and as yet he +had made no sign. At last she said a word to her mother. "Might I not +ask to go back to Miss Prettyman's now, mamma?" "I think, dear, you +had better wait till things are a little settled. Papa is to hear +again from the dean very soon. You see they are all in a great sorrow +at Barchester about poor Mr Harding's death." "Grace!" said Jane, +rushing into the house almost speechless, at that moment, "here he +is!—on horseback." I do not know why Jane should have talked about +Major Grantly as simply "he". There had been no conversation among +the sisters to justify her in such a mode of speech. Grace had not a +moment to put two and two together, so that she might realise the +meaning of what her mother had said; but, nevertheless, she felt at +the moment that the man, coming as he had done now, had come with all +commendable speed. How foolish had she been with her wretched +impatience!</p> + +<p>There he was certainly, tying his horse up to the railing. "Mamma, +what am I to say to him?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, dear; he is your own friend,—of your own making. You must say +what you think fit."</p> + +<p>"You are not going?"</p> + +<p>"I think we had better, dear." Then she went, and Jane with her, and +Jane opened the door for Major Grantly. Mr Crawley himself was away, +at Hoggle End, and did not return till after Major Grantly had left +the parsonage. Jane, as she greeted the grand gentleman, whom she had +seen and no more than seen, hardly knew what to say to him. When, +after a minute's hesitation, she told him that Grace was in +there,—pointing to the sitting-room door, she felt that she had been +very awkward. Henry Grantly, however, did not, I think, feel her +awkwardness, being conscious of some small difficulties of his own. +When, however, he found that Grace was alone, the task before him at +once lost half its difficulties. "Grace," he said, "am I right to +come to you now?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know," she said. "I cannot tell."</p> + +<p>"Dearest Grace, there is no reason on earth now why you should not be +my wife."</p> + +<p>"Is there not?"</p> + +<p>"I know of none,—if you can love me. You saw my father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw him."</p> + +<p>"And you heard what he said?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly remember what he said;—but he kissed me, and I thought he +was very kind."</p> + +<p>What little attempt Henry Grantly then made, thinking that he could +not do better than follow closely the example of so excellent a +father, need not be explained with minuteness. But I think that his +first effort was not successful. Grace was embarrassed and retreated, +and it was not till she had been compelled to give a direct answer to +a direct question that she submitted to allow his arm round her +waist. But when she had answered that question she was almost more +humble than becomes a maiden who has just been wooed and won. A +maiden who has been wooed and won, generally thinks that it is she +who has conquered, and chooses to be triumphant accordingly. But +Grace was even mean enough to thank her lover. "I do not know why you +should be so good to me," she said.</p> + +<p>"Because I love you," said he, "better than all the world."</p> + +<p>"By why should you be so good to me as that? Why should you love me? +I am such a poor thing for a man like you to love."</p> + +<p>"I have had the wit to see that you are not a poor thing, Grace; and +it is thus that I have earned my treasure. Some girls are poor +things, and some are rich treasures."</p> + +<p>"If love can make me a treasure, I will be your treasure. And if love +can make me rich, I will be rich for you." After that I think he had +no difficulty in following in his father's footsteps.</p> + +<p>After a while Mrs Crawley came in, and there was much pleasant +talking among them, while Henry Grantly sat happily with his love, as +though waiting for Mr Crawley's return. But though he was there +nearly all the morning Mr Crawley did not return. "I think he likes +the brickmakers better than anybody in the world, except ourselves," +said Grace. "I don't know how he will manage to get on without his +friends." Before Grace had said this, Major Grantly had told all his +story, and had produced a letter from his father, addressed to Mr +Crawley, of which the reader shall have a copy, although at this time +the letter had not been opened. The letter was as +follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Plumstead Rectory</span>,<br /> +–– May, 186––</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>You will no doubt have heard that Mr Harding, the vicar of +St Ewold's, who was the father of my wife and of Mrs +Arabin, has been taken from us. The loss to us of so +excellent and so dear a man has been very great. I have +conferred with my friend the Dean of Barchester as to a +new nomination, and I venture to request your acceptance +of the preferment, if it should suit you to move from +Hogglestock to St Ewold's. It may be as well that I should +state plainly my reasons for making this offer to a +gentleman with whom I am not personally acquainted. Mr +Harding, on his death-bed, himself suggested it, moved +thereto by what he had heard of the cruel and undeserved +persecution to which you have lately been subjected; as +also,—on which point he was very urgent in what he +said,—by the character which you bear in the diocese for +zeal and piety. I may also add, that the close connexion +which, as I understand, is likely to take place between +your family and mine has been an additional reason for my +taking this step, and the long friendship which has +existed between you and my wife's brother-in-law, the Dean +of Barchester, is a third.</p> + +<p>St Ewold's is worth £350 per annum, besides the house, +which is sufficiently commodious for a moderate family. +The population is about twelve hundred, of which more than +a half consists of persons dwelling in an outskirt of the +city,—for the parish runs almost into Barchester.</p> + +<p>I shall be glad to have your reply with as little delay as +may suit your convenience, and in the event of your +accepting the offer,—which I sincerely trust that you may +be enabled to do,—I shall hope to have an early +opportunity of seeing you, with reference to your +institution to the parish.</p> + +<p>Allow me also to say to you and Mrs Crawley that, if we +have been correctly informed as to that other event to +which I have alluded, we both hope that we may have an +early opportunity of making ourselves personally +acquainted with the parents of a young lady who is to be +so dear to us. As I have met your daughter, I may perhaps +be allowed to send her my kindest love. If, as my +daughter-in-law, she comes up to the impression which she +gave me at our first meeting, I, at any rate, shall be +satisfied.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">I have the honour to +be, my dear sir,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12">Your most faithful servant,</span></p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Theophilus +Grantly</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This letter the archdeacon had shown to his wife, by whom it had not +been very warmly approved. Nothing, Mrs Grantly had said, could be +prettier than what the archdeacon had said about Grace. Mrs Crawley, +no doubt, would be satisfied with that. But Mr Crawley was such a +strange man! "He will be stranger than I take him to be if he does +not accept St Ewold's," said the archdeacon. "But in offering it," +said Mrs Grantly, "you have not a said a word of your own high +opinion of his merits." "I have not a very high opinion of them," +said the archdeacon. "Your father had, and I have said so. And as I +have the most profound respect for your father's opinion in such a +matter, I have permitted that to overcome my own hesitation." This +was pretty from the husband to the wife as it regarded her father, +who had now gone from them; and, therefore, Mrs Grantly accepted it +without further argument. The reader may probably feel assured that +the archdeacon had never, during their joint lives, acted in any +church matter upon the advice given to him by Mr Harding; and it was +probably the case also that the living would have been offered to Mr +Crawley, if nothing had been said by Mr Harding on the subject; but +it did not become Mrs Grantly even to think of all this. The +archdeacon, having made this gracious speech about her father, was +not again asked to alter his letter. "I suppose he will accept it," +said Mrs Grantly. "I should think that he probably may," said the +archdeacon.</p> + +<p>So Grace, knowing what was the purport of the letter, sat with it +between her fingers, while her lover sat beside her, full of various +plans for the future. This was his first lover's present to her;—and +what a present it was! Comfort, and happiness, and a pleasant home +for all her family. "St Ewold's isn't the best house in the world," +said the major, "because it is old, and what I call piecemeal; but it +is very pretty, and certainly nice." "That is just the sort of +parsonage that I dream about," said Jane. "And the garden is pleasant +with old trees," said the major. "I always dream about old trees," +said Jane, "only I'm afraid I'm too old myself to be let to climb up +them now." Mrs Crawley said very little, but sat with her eyes full +of tears. Was it possible that, at last, before the world had closed +upon her, she was to enjoy something again of the comforts which she +had known in her early years, and to be again surrounded by those +decencies of life which of late had been almost banished from her +home by poverty!</p> + +<p>Their various plans for the future,—for the immediate future,—were +very startling. Grace was to go over at once to Plumstead, whither +Edith had been already transferred from Cosby Lodge. That was all +very well; there was nothing very startling or impracticable in that. +The Framley ladies, having none of those doubts as to what was coming +which had for a while perplexed Grace herself, had taken little +liberties with her wardrobe, which enabled such a visit to be made +without overwhelming difficulties. But the major was equally +eager,—or at any rate equally imperious,—in his requisition for a +visit from Mr and Mrs Crawley themselves to Plumstead rectory. Mrs +Crawley did not dare to put forward the plain unadorned reasons +against it, as Mr Crawley had done when discussing the subject of a +visit to the deanery. Nor could she quite venture to explain that she +feared that the archdeacon and her husband would hardly mix well +together in society. With whom, indeed, was it possible that her +husband should mix well, after his long and hardly-tried seclusion? +She could only plead that both her husband and herself were so little +used to going out that she feared,—she feared,—she feared she knew +not what. "We'll get over all that," said the major, almost +contemptuously. "It is only the first plunge that is disagreeable." +Perhaps the major did not know how very disagreeable a first plunge +may be!</p> + +<p>At two o'clock Henry Grantly got up to go. "I should very much like +to have seen him, but I fear I cannot wait longer. As it is, the +patience of my horse has been surprising." Then Grace walked out with +him to the gate and put her hand upon his bridle as he mounted, and +thought how wonderful was the power of Fortune, that the goddess +should have sent so gallant a gentleman to be her lord and her lover. +"I declare I don't quite believe it even yet," she said, in the +letter which she wrote to Lily Dale that night.</p> + +<p>It was four before Mr Crawley returned to his house, and then he was +very weary. There were many sick in these days at Hoggle End, and he +had gone from cottage to cottage through the day. Giles Hoggett was +almost unable to work from rheumatism, but still was of opinion that +doggedness might carry him on. "It's been a deal o' service to you, +Muster Crawley," he said. "We hears about it all. If you hadn't a +been dogged, where'd you a been now?" With Giles Hoggett and others +he had remained all the day, and now he came home weary and beaten. +"You'll tell him first," Grace had said, "and then I'll give him the +letter." The wife was the first to tell him of the good fortune that +was coming.</p> + +<p>He flung himself into the old chair as soon as he entered, and asked +for some bread and tea. "Jane has already gone for it, dear," said +his wife. "We have had a visitor here, Josiah."</p> + +<p>"A visitor,—what visitor?"</p> + +<p>"Grace's own friend,—Henry Grantly."</p> + +<p>"Grace, come here, that I may kiss you and bless you," he said, very +solemnly. "It would seem that the world is going to be very good to +you."</p> + +<p>"Papa, you must read this letter first."</p> + +<p>"Before I kiss my own darling?" Then she knelt at his feet. "I see," +he said, taking the letter; "it is from your lover's father. +Peradventure he signifies his consent, which would be surely needful +before such a marriage would be seemly."</p> + +<p>"It isn't about me, papa, at all."</p> + +<p>"Not about you? If so, that would be most unpromising. But, in any +case, you are my best darling." Then he kissed her and blessed her, +and slowly opened the letter. His wife had now come close to him, and +was standing over him, touching him, so that she also could read the +archdeacon's letter. Grace, who was still in front of him, could see +the working of his face as he read it; but even she could not tell +whether he was gratified, or offended, or dismayed. When he had got +as far as the first offer of the presentation, he ceased reading for +a while, and looked round about the room as though lost in thought. +"Let me see what further he writes to me," he then said; and after +that he continued the letter slowly to the end. "Nay, my child, you +were in error in saying that he wrote not about you. 'Tis in the +writing of you he has put some real heart into his words. He writes +as though his home would be welcome to you."</p> + +<p>"And does he not make St Ewold's welcome to you, papa?"</p> + +<p>"He makes me welcome to accept it,—if I may use the word after the +ordinary and somewhat faulty parlance of mankind."</p> + +<p>"And you will accept it,—of course?"</p> + +<p>"I know not that, my dear. The acceptance of a cure of souls is a +thing not to be decided on in a moment,—as is the colour of a +garment or the shape of a toy. Nor would I condescend to take this +thing from the archdeacon's hands, if I thought that he bestowed it +simply that the father of his daughter-in-law might no longer be +accounted poor."</p> + +<p>"Does he say that, papa?"</p> + +<p>"He gives it as a collateral reason, basing his offer first on the +kindly expressed judgment of one who is no more. Then he refers to +the friendship of the dean. If he believed that the judgment of his +late father-in-law in so weighty a matter were the best to be relied +upon of all that were at his command, then he would have done well to +trust to it. But in such a case he should have bolstered up a good +ground for action with no collateral supports which are weak,—and +worse than weak. However, it shall have my best consideration, +whereunto I hope that wisdom will be given to me where only such +wisdom can be had."</p> + +<p>"Josiah," said his wife to him, when they were alone, "you will not +refuse it?"</p> + +<p>"Not willingly,—not if it may be accepted. Alas! you need not urge +me, when the temptation is so strong!"</p> + + +<p><a name="c83" id="c83"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXIII</h3> +<h3>Mr Crawley Is Conquered<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was more than a week before the archdeacon received a reply from +Mr Crawley, during which time the dean had been over to Hogglestock +more than once, as had also Mrs Arabin and Lady Lufton the +younger,—and there had been letters written without end, and the +archdeacon had been nearly beside himself. "A man who pretends to +conscientious scruples of that kind is not fit to have a parish," he +said to his wife. His wife understood what he meant, and I trust that +the reader may also understand it. In the ordinary cutting of blocks +a very fine razor is not an appropriate instrument. The archdeacon, +moreover, loved the temporalities of the Church as temporalities. The +Church was beautiful to him because one man by interest might have a +thousand a year, while another man equally good, but without +interest, could only have a hundred. And he liked the men who had the +interest a great deal better than the men who had it not. He had been +willing to admit this poor perpetual curate, who had so long been +kept out in the cold, within the pleasant circle which was warm with +ecclesiastical good things, and the man hesitated,—because of +scruples, as the dean told him! "I always button up my pocket when I +hear of scruples," the archdeacon said.</p> + +<p>But at last Mr Crawley condescended to accept St Ewold's. "Reverend +and dear sir," he said in his letter.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>For the personal benevolence of the offer made to me in +your letter of the +<span class="nowrap">––––</span> instant, +I beg to tender you my +most grateful thanks; as also for your generous kindness to +me, in telling me of the high praise bestowed upon me by a +gentleman who is now no more,—whose character I have +esteemed and whose good opinion I value. There is, +methinks, something inexpressibly dear to me in the +recorded praise of the dead. For the further instance of +the friendship of the Dean of Barchester, I am also +thankful.</p> + +<p>Since the receipt of your letter I have doubted much as to +my fitness for the work you have proposed to entrust to +me,—not from any feeling that the parish of St Ewold's +may be beyond my intellectual power, but because the +latter circumstances of my life have been of a nature so +strange and perplexing that they have left me somewhat in +doubt as to my own aptitude for going about among men +without giving offence and becoming a stumbling block.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, reverend and dear sir, if after this +confession on my part of a certain faulty demeanour with +which I know well that I am afflicted, you are still +willing to put the parish into my hands, I will accept the +charge,—instigated to do so by the advice of all whom I +have consulted on the subject; and in thus accepting it, I +hereby pledge myself to vacate it at a month's warning, +should I be called upon by you to do so at any period +within the next two years. Should I be so far successful +during those twenty-four months as to have satisfied both +yourself and myself, I may then perhaps venture to regard +the preferment as my own in perpetuity for life.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind4">I have the honour to +be, reverend and dear sir,</span><br /> +<span class="ind8">Your most humble and faithful servant,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Josiah +Crawley</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"Psha!" said the archdeacon, who professed that he did not at all +like the letter. "I wonder what he would say if I sent him a month's +notice at next Michaelmas?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he would go," said Mrs Grantly.</p> + +<p>"The more fool he," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>At this time Grace was at the parsonage in a seventh heaven of +happiness. The archdeacon was never rough to her, nor did he make any +of his harsh remarks about her father in her presence. Before her St +Ewold's was spoken of as the home that was to belong to the Crawleys +for the next twenty years. Mrs Grantly was very loving with her, +lavishing upon her pretty presents, and words that were prettier than +the presents. Grace's life had hitherto been so destitute of those +prettinesses and softnesses, which can hardly be had without money +though money alone will not purchase them, that it seemed to her now +that the heavens rained graciousness upon her. It was not that the +archdeacon's watch or her lover's chain, or Mrs Grantly's locket, or +the little toy from Italy which Mrs Arabin brought to her from the +treasures of the deanery, filled her heart with undue exultation. It +was not that she revelled in her new delights of silver and gold and +shining gems; but that the silver and gold and shining gems were +constant indications to her that things had changed, not only for +her, but for her father and mother, and brother and sister. She felt +now more sure than ever that she could not have enjoyed her love had +she accepted her lover while the disgrace of the accusation against +her father remained. But now,—having waited till that had passed +away, everything was a new happiness to her.</p> + +<p>At last it was settled that Mr and Mrs Crawley were to come to +Plumstead,—and they came. It would be too long to tell now how +gradually had come about that changed state of things which made such +a visit possible. Mr Crawley had at first declared that such a thing +was quite out of the question. If St Ewold's was to depend upon it St +Ewold's must be given up. And I think that it would have been +impossible for him to go direct from Hogglestock to Plumstead. But it +fell out after this wise.</p> + +<p>Mr Harding's curate at St Ewold's was nominated to Hogglestock, and +the dean urged upon his friend Crawley the expediency of giving up +the house as quickly as he could do so. Gradually at this time Mr +Crawley had been forced into a certain amount of intimacy with the +haunts of men. He had been twice or thrice at Barchester, and had +lunched with the dean. He had been at Framley for an hour or two, and +had been forced into some communication with old Mr Thorne, the +squire of his new parish. The end of this had been that he had at +last consented to transfer himself and wife and daughter to the +deanery for a fortnight. He had preached one farewell sermon at +Hogglestock,—not, as he told his audience, as their pastor, which he +had ceased to be now for some two or three months,—but as their old +and loving friend, to whom the use of his former pulpit had been +lent, that he might express himself thus among them for the last +time. His sermon was very short, and was preached without book or +notes,—but he never once paused for a word or halted in the string +or rhythm of his discourse. The dean was there and declared +afterwards that he had not given him credit for such powers of +utterance. "Any man can utter out of a full heart," Crawley had +answered. "In this trumpery affair about myself, my heart is full! If +we could only have our hearts full in other matters, our utterances +thereanent would receive more attention." To all of which the dean +made no reply.</p> + +<p>On the day after this the Crawleys took their final departure from +Hogglestock, all the brickmakers from Hoggle End having assembled on +the occasion, with a purse containing seventeen pounds seven +shillings and sixpence, which they insisted on presenting to Mr +Crawley, and as to which there was a little difficulty. And at the +deanery they remained for a fortnight. How Mrs Crawley, under the +guidance of Mrs Arabin, had there so far trenched upon the revenues +of St Ewold's as to provide for her husband and herself raiment +fitting for the worldly splendour of Plumstead, need not here be told +in detail. Suffice to say, the raiment was forthcoming, and Mr +Crawley found himself to be the perplexed possessor of a black dress +coat, in addition to the long frock, coming nearly to his feet, which +was provided for his daily wear. Touching this garment, there had +been some discussion between the dean and the new vicar. The dean had +desired that it should be curtailed in length. The vicar had +remonstrated,—but still with something of the weakness of compliance +in his eye. Then the dean had persisted. "Surely the price of the +cloth wanted to perfect the comeliness of the garment cannot be +much," said the vicar, almost woefully. After that, the dean +relented, and the comeliness of the coat was made perfect. The new +black long frock, I think Mr Crawley liked; but the dress coat, with +the suit complete, perplexed him sorely.</p> + +<p>With his new coats, and something also, of new manners, he and his +wife went over to Plumstead, leaving Jane at the deanery with Mrs +Arabin. The dean also went to Plumstead. They arrived there not much +before dinner, and as Grace was there before them the first moments +were not so bad. Before Mr Crawley had had time to feel himself lost +in the drawing-room, he was summoned away to prepare himself for +dinner,—for dinner, and for the coat, which at the deanery he had +been allowed to leave unworn. "I would with all my heart that I might +retire to rest," he said to his wife, when the ceremony had been +perfected.</p> + +<p>"Do not say so. Go down and take your place with them, and speak your +mind with them,—as you so well know how. Who among them can do it so +well?"</p> + +<p>"I have been told," said Mr Crawley, "that you shall take a cock +which is lord of the farmyard,—the cock of all that walk,—and when +you have daubed his feathers with mud, he shall be thrashed by every +dunghill coward. I say not that I was ever the cock of the walk, but +I know that they have daubed my feathers." Then he went down among +the other poultry into the farmyard.</p> + +<p>At dinner he was very silent, answering, however, with a sort of +graceful stateliness any word that Mrs Grantly addressed to him. Mr +Thorne, from Ullathorne, was there also to meet his new vicar, as was +also Mr Thorne's very old sister, Miss Monica Thorne. And Lady Anne +Grantly was there,—she having come with the expressed intention that +the wives of the two brothers should know each other,—but with a +warmer desire, I think, of seeing Mr Crawley, of whom the clerical +world had been talking much since some notice of the accusation +against him had become general. There were, therefore, ten or twelve +at the dinner-table, and Mr Crawley had not made one at such a board +certainly since his marriage. All went fairly smoothly with him till +the ladies left the room; for though Lady Anne, who sat at his left +hand, had perplexed him somewhat with clerical questions, he had +found that he was not called upon for much more than monosyllabic +responses. But in his heart he feared the archdeacon, and he felt +that when the ladies were gone the archdeacon would not leave him +alone in his silence.</p> + +<p>As soon as the door was closed, the first subject mooted was that of +the Plumstead fox, which had been so basely murdered on Mr Thorne's +ground. Mr Thorne had confessed the iniquity, had dismissed the +murderous gamekeeper, and all was serene. But the greater on that +account was the feasibility of discussing the question, and the +archdeacon had a good deal to say about it. Then Mr Thorne turned to +the new vicar, and asked him whether foxes abounded in Hogglestock. +Had he been asked as to the rats or moles, he would have known more +about it.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir, I know not whether or no there be any foxes in the +parish of Hogglestock. I do not remember me that I ever saw one. It +is an animal whose habits I have not watched."</p> + +<p>"There is an earth at Hoggle Bushes," said the major; "and I never +knew it without a litter."</p> + +<p>"I think I know the domestic whereabouts of every fox in Plumstead," +said the archdeacon, with an ill-natured intention of astonishing Mr +Crawley.</p> + +<p>"Of foxes with two legs our friend is speaking, without doubt," said +the vicar of St Ewold's, with an attempt at grim pleasantry.</p> + +<p>"Of them we have none at Plumstead. No,—I was speaking of the dear +old fellow with the brush. Pass the bottle, Mr Crawley. Won't you +fill your glass?" Mr Crawley passed the bottle, but would not fill +his glass. Then the dean, looking up slyly, saw the vexation written +in the archdeacon's face. The parson whom the archdeacon feared most +of all parsons was the parson who wouldn't fill his glass.</p> + +<p>Then the subject was changed. "I'm told that the bishop has at last +made his reappearance on his throne," said the archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"He was in the cathedral last Sunday," said the dean.</p> + +<p>"Does he ever mean to preach again?"</p> + +<p>"He never did preach very often," said the dean.</p> + +<p>"A great deal too often, from all people say," said the archdeacon. +"I never heard him myself, and never shall, I daresay. You have heard +him, Mr Crawley?"</p> + +<p>"I have never had that good fortune, Mr Archdeacon. But living as I +shall now do, so near to the city, I may perhaps be enabled to attend +the cathedral service on some holy-day of the Church, which may not +require prayers in my own rural parish. I think that the clergy of +the diocese should be acquainted with the opinions, and with the +voice, and with the very manner and words of their bishop. As things +are now done, this is not possible. I could wish that there were +occasions on which a bishop might assemble his clergy, and preach to +them sermons adapted to their use."</p> + +<p>"What do you call a bishop's charge, then?"</p> + +<p>"It is usually in the printed form that I have received it," said Mr +Crawley.</p> + +<p>"I think we have quite enough of that kind of thing," said the +archdeacon.</p> + +<p>"He is a man whose conversation is not pleasing to me," Mr Crawley +said to his wife that night.</p> + +<p>"Do not judge of him too quickly, Josiah," his wife said. "There is +so much of good in him! He is kind, and generous, and I think +affectionate."</p> + +<p>"But he is of the earth, earthy. When you and the other ladies had +retired, the conversation at first fell on the habits and value +of—foxes. I have been informed that in these parts the fox is +greatly prized, as without a fox to run before the dogs, that +scampering over the country which is called hunting, and which +delights by the quickness and perhaps by the peril of the exercise, +is not relished by the riders. Of the wisdom or taste herein +displayed by the hunters of the day I say nothing. But it seemed to +me that in talking of foxes Dr Grantly was master of his subject. +Thence the topic glided to the duties of a bishop and to questions of +preaching, as to which Dr Grantly was not slow in offering his +opinion. But I thought that I would rather have heard him talk about +the foxes for a week together." She said nothing more to him, knowing +well how useless it was to attempt to turn him by any argument. To +her thinking the kindness of the archdeacon to them personally +demanded some indulgence in the expression, and even in the +formation, of an opinion, respecting his clerical peculiarities.</p> + +<p>On the next day, however, Mr Crawley, having been summoned by the +archdeacon into the library for a little private conversation, found +that he got on better with him. How the archdeacon conquered him may +perhaps be best described by a further narration of what Mr Crawley +said to his wife. "I told him that in regard to money matters, as he +called them, I had nothing to say. I only trusted that his son was +aware that my daughter had no money, and never would have any. 'My +dear Crawley,' the archdeacon said,—for of late there seems to have +grown up in the world a habit of greater familiarity than that which +I think did prevail when last I moved much among men,—'my dear +Crawley, I have enough for both.' 'I would we stood on more equal +grounds,' I said. Then as he answered me, he rose from his chair. 'We +stand,' said he, 'on the only perfect level on which such men can +meet each other. We are both gentlemen.' 'Sir,' I said, rising also, +'from the bottom of my heart I agree with you. I could not have +spoken such words; but coming from you who are rich to me who am +poor, they are honourable to the one and comfortable to the other.'"</p> + +<p>"And after that?"</p> + +<p>"He took down from the shelves a volume of sermons which his father +published many years ago, and presented it to me. I have it now under +my arm. It hath the old bishop's manuscript notes, which I will study +carefully." And thus the archdeacon had hit his bird on both wings.</p> + + +<p><a name="c84" id="c84"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXIV</h3> +<h3>Conclusion<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It now only remains for me to gather together a few loose strings, +and tie them together in a knot, so that my work may not become +untwisted. Early in July, Henry Grantly and Grace Crawley were +married in the parish church of Plumstead,—a great impropriety, as +to which neither Archdeacon Grantly nor Mr Crawley could be got to +assent for a long time, but which was at last carried, not simply by +a union of Mrs Grantly and Mrs Crawley, nor even by the assistance of +Mrs Arabin, but by the strong intervention of old Lady Lufton +herself. "Of course Miss Crawley ought to be married from St Ewold's +vicarage; but when the furniture has only been half got in, how is it +possible?" When Lady Lufton thus spoke, the archdeacon gave way, and +Mr Crawley hadn't a leg to stand upon. Henry Grantly had not an +opinion upon the matter. He told his father that he expected that +they would marry him among them, and that that would be enough for +him. As for Grace, nobody even thought of asking her; and I doubt +whether she would have heard anything about the contest, had not some +tidings of it reached her from her lover. Married they were at +Plumstead,—and the breakfast was given with all that luxuriance of +plenty which was so dear to the archdeacon's mind. Mr Crawley was the +officiating priest. With his hands dropping before him, folded +humbly, he told the archdeacon,—when that Plumstead question had +been finally settled in opposition to his wishes,—that he would fain +himself perform the ceremony by which his dearest daughter would be +bound to her marriage duties. "And who else should?" said the +archdeacon. Mr Crawley muttered that he had not known how far his +reverend brother might have been willing to waive his rights. But the +archdeacon, who was in high good-humour,—having just bestowed a +little pony carriage on his new daughter-in-law,—only laughed at +him; and, if the rumour which was handed about the families be true, +the archdeacon, before the interview was over, had poked Mr Crawley +in the ribs. Mr Crawley married them; but the archdeacon +assisted,—and the dean gave the bride away. The Rev Charles Grantly +was there also; and as there was, as a matter of course, a cloud of +curates floating in the distance, Henry Grantly was perhaps to be +excused for declaring to his wife, when the pair had escaped, that +surely no couple had ever been so tightly buckled since marriage had +first become a Church ceremony.</p> + +<p>Soon after that, Mr and Mrs Crawley became quiet at St Ewold's, and, +as I think, contented. Her happiness began very quickly. Though she +had been greatly broken by her troubles, the first sight she had of +her husband in his new long frock-coat went far to restore her, and +while he was declaring himself to be a cock so daubed with mud as to +be incapable of crowing, she was congratulating herself on seeing her +husband once more clothed as became his position. And they were +lucky, too, as regarded the squire's house; for Mr Thorne was old, +and quiet, and old-fashioned; and Miss Thorne was older, and though +she was not exactly quiet, she was very old-fashioned indeed. So that +there grew to be a pleasant friendship between Miss Thorne and Mrs +Crawley.</p> + +<p>Johnny Eames, when last I heard of him, was still a bachelor, and, as +I think, likely to remain so. At last he had utterly thrown over Sir +Raffle Buffle, declaring to his friends that the special duties of +private secretaryship were not exactly to his taste. "You get so sick +at the thirteenth private note," he said, "that you find yourself +unable to carry on the humbug any farther." But he did not leave his +office. "I'm the head of a room, you know," he told Lady Julia De +Guest; "and there's nothing to trouble me,—and a fellow, you know, +ought to have something to do." Lady Julia told him, with a great +deal of energy, that she would never forgive him if he gave up his +office. After that eventful night when he escaped ignominiously from +the house of Lady Demolines under the protection of the policeman's +lantern, he did hear more than once from Porchester Terrace, and from +allies employed by the enemy who was there resident. "My cousin, the +serjeant," proved to be a myth. Johnny found out all about that +Serjeant Runter, who was distantly connected, indeed, with the late +husband of Lady Demolines, but had always persistently declined to +have any intercourse whatever with her ladyship. For the serjeant was +a rising man, and Lady Demolines was not exactly progressing in the +world. Johnny heard nothing from the serjeant; but from Madalina he +got letter after letter. In the first she asked him not to think too +much of the little joke that had occurred. In her second, she +described the vehemence of her love. In her third the bitterness of +her wrath. Her fourth simply invited him to come and dine in +Porchester Terrace. Her fifth was the outpouring of injured +innocence. And then came letters from an attorney. Johnny answered +not a word to any of them, and gradually the letters were +discontinued. Within six months of the receipt of the last, he was +delighted by reading among the marriages in the newspapers a notice +that Peter Bangles, Esq, of the firm Burton and Bangles, wine +merchants, of Hook Court, had been united to Madalina, daughter of +the late Sir Confucius Demolines, at the church of Peter the Martyr. +"Most appropriate," said Johnny, as he read the notice to Conway +Dalrymple, who was then back from his wedding tour; "for most +assuredly there will now be another Peter the Martyr."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that," said Conway, who had heard something of Mr +Peter Bangles. "There are men who have strong wills of their own, and +strong hands of their own."</p> + +<p>"Poor Madalina!" said Johnny. "If he does beat her, I hope he will do +it tenderly. It may be that a little bit of it will suit her fevered +temperament."</p> + +<p>Before the summer was over Conway Dalrymple had been married to Clara +Van Siever, and by a singular arrangement of circumstances had +married her with the full approval of old Mrs Van. Mr +Musselboro,—whose name I hope has not been altogether forgotten, +though the part played by him has been subordinate,—had opposed +Dalrymple in the efforts made by the artist to get something out of +Broughton's estate for the benefit of the widow. From circumstances +of which Dalrymple learned the particulars with the aid of an +attorney, it seemed to him that certain facts were wilfully kept in +the dark by Musselboro, and he went with his complaint to Mrs Van +Siever, declaring that he would bring the whole affair into court, +unless all the workings of the firm were made clear to him. Mrs Van +was very insolent to him,—and even turned him out of the house. But, +nevertheless, she did not allow Mr Musselboro to escape. Whoever was +to be left in the dark she did not wish to be there herself;—and it +began to dawn upon her that her dear Mr Musselboro was deceiving her. +Then she sent for Dalrymple, and without a word of apology for her +former conduct, put him upon the right track. As he was pushing his +inquiries, and working heaven and earth for the unfortunate +widow,—as to whom he swore daily that when this matter was settled +he would never see her again, so terrible was she to him with her +mock affection and pretended hysterics, and false moralities,—he was +told one day that she had gone off with Mr Musselboro! Mr Musselboro, +finding that this was the surest plan of obtaining for himself the +little business in Hook Court, married the widow of his late partner, +and is at this moment probably carrying on a law-suit with Mrs Van. +For the law-suit Conway Dalrymple cared nothing. When the quarrel had +become hot between Mrs Van and her late myrmidon, Clara fell into +Conway's hands without opposition; and, let the law-suit go as it +may, there will be enough left of Mrs Van's money to make the house +of Mr and Mrs Conway Dalrymple very comfortable. The picture of Jael +and Sisera was stitched up without any difficulty, and I daresay most +of my readers will remember it hanging on the walls of the +exhibition.</p> + +<p>Before I take my leave of the diocese of Barchester for ever, which I +purpose to do in the succeeding paragraph, I desire to be allowed to +say one word of apology for myself, in answer to those who have +accused me,—always without bitterness, and generally with +tenderness,—of having forgotten, in writing of clergymen, the first +and most prominent characteristic of the ordinary English clergyman's +life. I have described many clergymen, they say, but have spoken of +them all as though their professional duties, their high calling, +their daily workings for the good of those around them, were matters +of no moment, either to me, or in my opinion, to themselves. I would +plead, in answer to this, that my object has been to paint the social +and not the professional lives of clergymen; and that I have been led +to do so, firstly, by a feeling that as no men affect more strongly, +by their own character, the society of those around than do country +clergymen, so, therefore, their social habits have been worth the +labour necessary for painting them; and secondly, by a feeling that +though I, as a novelist, may feel myself entitled to write of +clergymen out of their pulpits, as I may also write of lawyers and +doctors, I have no such liberty to write of them in their pulpits. +When I have done so, if I have done so, I have so far transgressed. +There are those who have told me that I have made all my clergymen +bad, and none good. I must venture to hint to such judges that they +have taught their eyes to love a colouring higher than nature +justifies. We are, most of us, apt to love Raphael's madonnas better +than Rembrandt's matrons. But, though we do so, we know that +Rembrandt's matrons existed; but we have a strong belief that no such +woman as Raphael painted ever did exist. In that he painted, as he +may be surmised to have done, for pious purposes,—at least for +Church purposes,—Raphael was justified; but had he painted so for +family portraiture he would have been false. Had I written an epic +about clergymen, I would have taken St Paul for my model; but +describing, as I have endeavoured to do, such clergymen as I see +around me, I could not venture to be transcendental. For myself I can +only say that I shall always be happy to sit, when allowed to do so, +at the table of Archdeacon Grantly, to walk through the High Street +of Barchester arm in arm with Mr Robarts of Framley, and to stand +alone and shed a tear beneath the modest black stone in the north +transept of the cathedral on which is inscribed the name of Septimus +Harding.</p> + +<p>And now, if the reader will allow me to seize him affectionately by +the arm, we will together take our last farewell of Barset and of the +towers of Barchester. I may not venture to say to him that, in this +country, he and I together have wandered often through the country +lanes, and have ridden together over the too well-wooded fields, or +have stood together in the cathedral nave listening to the peals of +the organ, or have together sat at good men's tables, or have +confronted together the angry pride of men who were not good. I may +not boast that any beside myself have so realised the place, and the +people, and the facts, as to make such reminiscences possible as +those which I should attempt to evoke by an appeal to perfect +fellowship. But to me Barset has been a real county, and its city a +real city, and the spires and towers have been before my eyes, and +the voices of the people are known to my ears, and the pavement of +the city ways are familiar to my footsteps. To them all I now say +farewell. That I have been induced to wander among them too long by +my love of old friendships, and by the sweetness of old faces, is a +fault for which I may perhaps be more readily forgiven, when I +repeat, with solemnity of assurance, the promise made in my title, +that this shall be the last chronicle of Barset.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="fn1" id="fn1"></a></p> +<h3>Footnote</h3> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" class="small"> +<tr><td valign="top">1. </td><td><i>Baronum Castrum</i> +having been the old Roman name from which the +modern Barchester is derived, the bishops of the diocese always +signed themselves Barnum.<br /> +<a href="#fnr1">[RETURN]</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 3045-h.txt or 3045-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/4/3045">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/4/3045</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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