The Claverings

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XLVIII.

  CONCLUSION.

  Florence Burton had taken upon herself to say that Mrs. Claveringwould have no difficulty in making to Mr. Saul the communicationwhich was now needed before he could be received at the rectory, asthe rector's successor and future son-in-law; but Mrs. Claveringwas by no means so confident of her own powers. To her it seemed asthough the undertaking which she had in hand, was one surrounded withdifficulties. Her husband, when the matter was being discussed, atonce made her understand that he would not relieve her by an offerto perform the task. He had been made to break the bad news to LadyClavering, and, having been submissive in that matter, felt himselfable to stand aloof altogether as to this more difficult embassy."I suppose it would hardly do to ask Harry to see him again," Mrs.Clavering had said. "You would do it much better, my dear," therector had replied. Then Mrs. Clavering had submitted in her turn;and when the scheme was fully matured, and the time had come inwhich the making of the proposition could no longer be delayed withprudence, Mr. Saul was summoned by a short note. "Dear Mr. Saul,--Ifyou are disengaged would you come to me at the rectory at elevento-morrow?--Yours ever, M. C." Mr. Saul of course said that he wouldcome. When the to-morrow had arrived and breakfast was over, therector and Harry took themselves off, somewhere about the grounds ofthe great house,--counting up their treasures of proprietorship, aswe can fancy that men so circumstanced would do,--while Mary Fieldingwith Fanny and Florence retired upstairs, so that they might bewell out of the way. They knew, all of them, what was about to bedone, and Fanny behaved herself like a white lamb decked with brightribbons for the sacrificial altar. To her it was a sacrificialmorning,--very sacred, very solemn, and very trying to the nerves."I don't think that any girl was ever in such a position before," shesaid to her sister. "A great many girls would be glad to be in thesame position," Mrs. Fielding replied. "Do you think so? To me thereis something almost humiliating in the idea that he should be askedto take me." "Fiddlestick, my dear," replied Mrs. Fielding.

  Mr. Saul came, punctual as the church clock,--of which he had theregulating himself,--and was shown into the rectory dining-room,where Mrs. Clavering was sitting alone. He looked, as he ever did,serious, composed, ill-dressed, and like a gentleman. Of course hemust have supposed that the present rector would make some changein his mode of living, and could not be surprised that he shouldhave been summoned to the rectory;--but he was surprised that thesummons should have come from Mrs. Clavering, and not from therector himself. It appeared to him that the old enmity must be veryenduring, if, even now, Mr. Clavering could not bring himself to seehis curate on a matter of business.

  "It seems a long time since we have seen you here, Mr. Saul," saidMrs. Clavering.

  "Yes;--when I have remembered how often I used to be here, my absencehas seemed long and strange."

  "It has been a source of great grief to me."

  "And to me, Mrs. Clavering."

  "But, as circumstances then were, in truth it could not be avoided.Common prudence made it necessary. Don't you think so, Mr. Saul?"

  "If you ask me I must answer according to my own ideas. Commonprudence should not have made it necessary,--at least not accordingto my view of things. Common prudence, with different people, meanssuch different things! But I am not going to quarrel with your ideasof common prudence, Mrs. Clavering."

  Mrs. Clavering had begun badly, and was aware of it. She should havesaid nothing about the past. She had foreseen, from the first, thedanger of doing so, but had been unable to rush at once into thegolden future. "I hope we shall have no more quarrelling at anyrate," she said.

  "There shall be none on my part. Only, Mrs. Clavering, you must notsuppose from my saying so that I intend to give up my pretensions.A word from your daughter would make me do so, but no words from anyone else."

  "She ought to be very proud of such constancy on your part, Mr. Saul,and I have no doubt she will be." Mr. Saul did not understand this,and made no reply to it. "I don't know whether you have heard thatMr. Clavering intends to--give up the living."

  "I have not heard it. I have thought it probable that he would doso."

  "He has made up his mind that he will. The fact is, that if he heldit, he must neglect either that or the property." We will not stopat this moment to examine what Mr. Saul's ideas must have been as tothe exigencies of the property, which would leave no time for theperformance of such clerical duties as had fallen for some years pastto the share of the rector himself. "He hopes that he may be allowedto take some part in the services,--but he means to resign theliving."

  "I suppose that will not much affect me for the little time that Ihave to remain."

  "We think it will affect you,--and hope that it may. Mr. Claveringwishes you to accept the living."

  "To accept the living?" And for a moment even Mr. Saul looked asthough he were surprised.

  "Yes, Mr. Saul."

  "To be rector of Clavering?"

  "If you see no objection to such an arrangement."

  "It is a most munificent offer,--but as strange as it is munificent.Unless indeed--" And then some glimpse of the truth made its way intothe chinks of Mr. Saul's mind.

  "Mr. Clavering would, no doubt, have made the offer to you himself,had it not been that I can, perhaps, speak to you about dear Fannybetter than he could do. Though our prudence has not been quite toyour mind, you can at any rate understand that we might very muchobject to her marrying you when there was nothing for you to live on,even though we had no objection to yourself personally."

  "But Mr. Clavering did object on both grounds."

  "I was not aware that he had done so; but, if so, no such objectionis now made by him,--or by me. My idea is that a child shouldbe allowed to consult her own heart, and to indulge her ownchoice,--provided that in doing so she does not prepare for herselfa life of indigence, which must be a life of misery; and of courseproviding also that there be no strong personal objection."

  "A life of indigence need not be a life of misery," said Mr. Saul,with that obstinacy which formed so great a part of his character.

  "Well, well."

  "I am very indigent, but I am not at all miserable. If we are to bemade miserable by that, what is the use of all our teaching?"

  "But, at any rate, a competence is comfortable."

  "Too comfortable!" As Mr. Saul made this exclamation, Mrs. Claveringcould not but wonder at her daughter's taste. But the matter had gonetoo far now for any possibility of receding.

  "You will not refuse it, I hope, as it will be accompanied by whatyou say you still desire."

  "No; I will not refuse it. And may God give her and me grace so touse the riches of this world that they become not a stumbling-blockto us, and a rock of offence. It is possible that the camel should bemade to go through the needle's eye. It is possible."

  "The position, you know, is not one of great wealth."

  "It is to me, who have barely hitherto had the means of support. Willyou tell your husband from me that I will accept, and endeavour notto betray the double trust he proposes to confer on me. It is muchthat he should give to me his daughter. She shall be to me bone of mybone, and flesh of my flesh. If God will give me his grace thereto, Iwill watch over her, so that no harm shall come nigh her. I love heras the apple of my eye; and I am thankful,--very thankful that therich gift should be made to me."

  "I am sure that you love her, Mr. Saul."

  "But," continued he, not marking her interruption, "that other trustis one still greater, and requiring a more tender care and even acloser sympathy. I shall feel that the souls of these people will be,as it were, in my hand, and that I shall be called upon to give anaccount of their welfare. I will strive,--I will strive. And she,also, will be with me, to help me."

  When Mrs. Clavering described this scene to her husband, he shook hishead; and there came over his face a smile, in which there was muchof melancholy, as he said, "Ah, yes,--that is all very well now. Hewill settle down as other men do, I suppose, when
he has four or fivechildren around him." Such were the ideas which the experience ofthe outgoing and elder clergyman taught him to entertain as to theecstatic piety of his younger brother.

  It was Mrs. Clavering who suggested to Mr. Saul that perhaps he wouldlike to see Fanny. This she did when her story had been told, and hewas preparing to leave her. "Certainly, if she will come to me."

  "I will make no promise," said Mrs. Clavering, "but I will see." Thenshe went upstairs to the room where the girls were sitting, and thesacrificial lamb was sent down into the drawing-room. "I suppose ifyou say so, mamma--"

  "I think, my dear, that you had better see him. You will meet thenmore comfortably afterwards." So Fanny went into the drawing-room,and Mr. Saul was sent to her there. What passed between them allreaders of these pages will understand. Few young ladies, I fear,will envy Fanny Clavering her lover; but they will remember that Lovewill still be lord of all; and they will acknowledge that he had donemuch to deserve the success in life which had come in his way.

  It was long before the old rector could reconcile himself eitherto the new rector or his new son-in-law. Mrs. Clavering had nowso warmly taken up Fanny's part, and had so completely assumed amother's interest in her coming marriage, that Mr. Clavering, or SirHenry, as we may now call him, had found himself obliged to abstainfrom repeating to her the wonder with which he still regarded hisdaughter's choice. But to Harry he could still be eloquent on thesubject. "Of course it's all right now," he said. "He's a very goodyoung man, and nobody would work harder in the parish. I alwaysthought I was very lucky to have such an assistant. But upon my wordI cannot understand Fanny; I cannot indeed."

  "She has been taken by the religious side of her character," saidHarry.

  "Yes, of course. And no doubt it is very gratifying to me to see thatshe thinks so much of religion. It should be the first considerationwith all of us at all times. But she has never been used to men likeMr. Saul."

  "Nobody can deny that he is a gentleman."

  "Yes; he is a gentleman. God forbid that I should say he was not;especially now that he is going to marry your sister. But-- I don'tknow whether you quite understand what I mean?"

  "I think I do. He isn't quite one of our sort."

  "How on earth she can ever have brought herself to look at him inthat light!"

  "There's no accounting for tastes, sir. And, after all, as he's tohave the living, there will be nothing to regret."

  "No; nothing to regret. I suppose he'll be up at the other houseoccasionally. I never could make anything of him when he dined at therectory; perhaps he'll be better there. Perhaps, when he's married,he'll get into the way of drinking a glass of wine like anybody else.Dear Fanny; I hope she'll be happy. That's everything." In answer tothis Harry took upon himself to assure his father that Fanny wouldbe happy; and then they changed the conversation, and discussed thealterations which they would make in reference to the preservation ofpheasants.

  Mr. Saul and Fanny remained long together on that occasion, and whenthey parted he went off about his work, not saying a word to anyother person in the house, and she betook herself as fast as her feetcould carry her to her own room. She said not a word either to hermother, or to her sister, or to Florence as to what had passed atthat interview; but, when she was first seen by any of them, shewas very grave in her demeanour, and very silent. When her fathercongratulated her, which he did with as much cordiality as he wasable to assume, she kissed him and thanked him for his care andkindness; but even this she did almost solemnly. "Ah, I see how itis to be," said the old rector to his wife. "There are to be no morecakes and ale in the parish." Then his wife reminded him of what hehimself had said of the change which would take place in Mr. Saul'sways when he should have a lot of children running about his feet."Then I can only hope that they'll begin to run about very soon,"said the old rector.

  To her sister, Mary Fielding, Fanny said little or nothing of hercoming marriage, but to Florence, who, as regarded that event, wasin the same position as herself, she frequently did express herfeelings,--declaring how awful to her was the responsibility ofthe thing she was about to do. "Of course that's quite true," saidFlorence, "but it doesn't make one doubt that one is right to marry."

  "I don't know," said Fanny. "When I think of it, it does almost makeme doubt."

  "Then if I were Mr. Saul I would not let you think of it at all."

  "Ah;--that shows that you do not understand him. He would be thefirst to advise me to hesitate if he thought that,--that--that;--Idon't know that I can quite express what I mean."

  "Under those circumstances Mr. Saul won't thinkthat,--that--that--that--"

  "Oh, Florence, it is too serious for laughing. It is indeed." ThenFlorence also hoped that a time might come, and that shortly, inwhich Mr. Saul might moderate his views,--though she did not expressherself exactly as the rector had done.

  Immediately after this Florence went back to Stratton, in order thatshe might pass what remained to her of her freedom with her motherand father, and that she might prepare herself for her wedding. Theaffair with her was so much hurried that she had hardly time to giveher mind to those considerations which were weighing so heavilyon Fanny's mind. It was felt by all the Burtons,--especially byCecilia,--that there was need for extension of their views in regardto millinery, seeing that Florence was to marry the eldest sonand heir of a baronet. And old Mrs. Burton was awed almost intoquiescence by the reflections which came upon her when she thoughtof the breakfast, and of the presence of Sir Henry Clavering. She atonce summoned her daughter-in-law from Ramsgate to her assistance,and felt that all her experience, gathered from the weddingbreakfasts of so many elder daughters, would hardly carry her throughthe difficulties of the present occasion.

  The two widowed sisters were still at the great house when Sir HenryClavering with Harry and Fanny went to Stratton, but they left it onthe following day. The father and son went up together to bid themfarewell, on the eve of their departure, and to press upon them,over and over again, the fact that they were still to regard theClaverings of Clavering Park as their nearest relations and friends.The elder sister simply cried when this was said to her,--criedeasily with plenteous tears, till the weeds which enveloped herseemed to be damp from the ever-running fountain. Hitherto, toweep had been her only refuge; but I think that even this hadalready become preferable to her former life. Lady Ongar assured SirHenry, or Mr. Clavering, as he was still called till after theirdeparture,--that she would always remember and accept his kindness."And you will come to us?" said he. "Certainly; when I can make Hermycome. She will be better when the summer is here. And then, afterthat, we will think about it." On this occasion she seemed to bequite cheerful herself, and bade Harry farewell with all the frankaffection of an old friend.

  "I have given up the house in Bolton Street," she said to him.

  "And where do you mean to live?"

  "Anywhere; just as it may suit Hermy. What difference does it make?We are going to Tenby now, and though Tenby seems to me to have asfew attractions as any place I ever knew, I daresay we shall staythere, simply because we shall be there. That is the considerationwhich weighs most with such old women as we are. Good-by, Harry."

  "Good-by, Julia. I hope that I may yet see you,--you and Hermy, happybefore long."

  "I don't know much about happiness, Harry. There comes a dream of itsometimes,--such as you have got now. But I will answer for this: youshall never hear of my being down-hearted. At least not on my ownaccount," she added in a whisper. "Poor Hermy may sometimes drag medown. But I will do my best. And, Harry, tell your wife that I shallwrite to her occasionally,--once a year, or something like that; sothat she need not be afraid. Good-by, Harry."

  "Good-by, Julia." And so they parted.

  Immediately on her arrival at Tenby, Lady Ongar communicated to Mr.Turnbull her intention of giving back to the Courton family, not onlythe place called Ongar Park, but also the whole of her income withthe exception of eight hundred a year, so that in that
respect shemight be equal to her sister. This brought Mr. Turnbull down toTenby, and there was interview after interview between the countessand the lawyer. The proposition, however, was made to the Courtons,and was absolutely refused by them. Ongar Park was accepted on behalfof the mother of the present earl; but as regarded the money, thewidow of the late earl was assured by the elder surviving brotherthat no one doubted her right to it, or would be a party to acceptingit from her. "Then," said Lady Ongar, "it will accumulate in myhands, and I can leave it as I please in my will."

  "As to that, no one can control you," said her brother-in-law--whowent to Tenby to see her; "but you must not be angry, if I adviseyou not to make any such resolution. Such hoards never have goodresults." This good result, however, did come from the effort whichthe poor broken-spirited woman was making,--that an intimacy, and atlast a close friendship, was formed between her and the relatives ofher deceased lord.

  And now my story is done. My readers will easily understand whatwould be the future life of Harry Clavering and his wife after thecompletion of that tour in Italy, and the birth of the heir,--thepreparations for which made the tour somewhat shorter than Harry hadintended. His father, of course, gave up to him the shooting, andthe farming of the home farm,--and after a while, the management ofthe property. Sir Henry preached occasionally,--believing himself topreach much oftener than he did,--and usually performed some portionof the morning service.

  "Oh, yes," said Theodore Burton, in answer to some comfortable remarkfrom his wife; "Providence has done very well for Florence. AndProvidence has done very well for him also;--but Providence wasmaking a great mistake when she expected him to earn his bread."