CHAPTER LXXIX.
MR. CRAWLEY SPEAKS OF HIS COAT.
At this time Grace had returned home from Framley. As long as theterrible tragedy of the forthcoming trial was dragging itself on shehad been content to stay away, at her mother's bidding. It has notbeen possible in these pages to tell of all the advice that had beengiven to the ladies of the Crawley family in their great difficulty,and of all the assistance that had been offered. The elder LadyLufton and the younger, and Mrs. Robarts had continually been inconsultation on the subject; Mrs. Grantly's opinion had been askedand given; and even the Miss Prettymans and Mrs. Walker had foundmeans of expressing themselves. The communications to Mrs. Crawleyhad been very frequent,--though they had not of course been allowedto reach the ears of Mr. Crawley. What was to be done when the livingshould be gone and Mr. Crawley should be in prison? Some said that hemight be there for six weeks, and some for two years. Old Lady Luftonmade anxious inquiries about Judge Medlicote, before whom it wassaid that the trial would be taken. Judge Medlicote was a Dissenter,and old Lady Lufton was in despair. When she was assured bysome liberally-disposed friend that this would certainly make nodifference, she shook her head woefully. "I don't know why we areto have Dissenters at all," she said, "to try people who belong tothe Established Church." When she heard that Judge Medlicote wouldcertainly be the judge, she made up her mind that two years would bethe least of it. She would not have minded it, she said, if he hadbeen a Roman Catholic. And whether the punishment might be for sixweeks or for two years, what should be done with the family? Whereshould they be housed? how should they be fed? What should be donewith the poor man when he came out of prison? It was a case in whichthe generous, soft-hearted old Lady Lufton was almost beside herself."As for Grace," said young Lady Lufton, "it will be a great dealbetter that we should keep her amongst us. Of course she will becomeMrs. Grantly, and it will be nicer for her that it should be so." Inthose days the posters had been seen, and the flitting to Pau hadbeen talked of, and the Framley opinion was that Grace had betterremain at Framley till she should be carried off to Pau. There wereschemes, too, about Jane. But what was to be done for the wife? Andwhat was to be done for Mr. Crawley? Then came the news from Mrs.Arabin, and all interest in Judge Medlicote was at an end.
But even now, after this great escape, what was to be done? As toGrace, she had felt the absolute necessity of being obedient to herfriends,--with the consent of course of her mother,--during thegreat tribulation of her family. Things were so bad that she hadnot the heart to make them worse by giving any unnecessary troubleas to herself. Having resolved,--and having made her mother sounderstand,--that on one point she would guide herself by her ownfeelings, she was contented to go hither and thither as she wastold, and to do as she was bid. Her hope was that Miss Prettymanwould allow her to go back to her teaching, but it had come to beunderstood among them all that nothing was to be said on that subjecttill 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, andGrace, with all the others, understood that there would be no trial.When this was known and acknowledged, she declared her purpose ofgoing back to Hogglestock. She would go back at once. When asked bothby 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, absolvedfrom her passive obedience to Framley authorities by the diminutionof the family misfortunes.
Mrs. Robarts understood the feeling by which Grace was hurried away."Do you know why she is so obstinate?" Lady Lufton asked.
"I think I do," said Mrs. Robarts.
"And what is it?"
"Should Major Grantly renew his offer to her she is under a pledge toaccept him now."
"Of course he will renew it, and of course she will accept him."
"Just so. But she prefers that he should come for her to her ownhouse,--because of its poverty. If he chooses to seek her there, Idon't think she will make much difficulty." Lady Lufton demurred tothis, not however with anger, and expressed a certain amount of milddispleasure. She did not quite see why Major Grantly should not beallowed to come and do his love-making comfortably, where there wasa decent dinner for him to eat, and chairs and tables and sofas andcarpets. She said that she thought that something was due to MajorGrantly. She was in truth a little disappointed that she was notallowed to have her own way, and to arrange the marriage at Framleyunder her own eye. But, through it all, she appreciated Grace; andthey who knew her well and heard what she said upon the occasion,understood that her favour was not to be withdrawn. All young womenwere divided by old Lady Lufton into sheep and goats,--very whitesheep and very black goats;--and Grace was to be a sheep. Thus itcame to pass that Grace Crawley was at home when the dean visitedHogglestock. "Mamma," she said, looking out of the window, "there isthe dean with papa at the gate."
"It was a narrow squeak--a very narrow squeak," Mr. Crawley had saidwhen his friend congratulated him on his escape. The dean felt atthe moment that not for many years had he heard the incumbent ofHogglestock speak either of himself or of anything else with somanifest an attempt at jocularity. Arabin had expected to find theman broken down by the weight of his sorrows, and lo! at the firstmoment of their first interview he himself began to ridicule them!Crawley having thus alluded to the narrow squeak had asked hisvisitor to enter the house and see his wife.
"Of course I will," said Arabin, "but I will speak just a word to youfirst." Jane, who had accompanied the dean from the school, now leftthem, and went into the house to her mother. "My wife cannot forgiveherself about the cheque," continued he.
"There is nothing to be forgiven," said Mr. Crawley; "nothing."
"She feels that what she did was awkward and foolish. She ought neverto have paid a cheque away in such a manner. She knows that now."
"It was given,--not paid," said Crawley; and as he spoke somethingof the black cloud came back upon his face. "And I am well awarehow hard Mrs. Arabin strove to take away from the alms she bestowedthe bitterness of the sting of eleemosynary aid. If you please,Arabin, we will not talk any more of that. I can never forget thatI have been a beggar, but I need not make my beggary the matter ofconversation. I hope the Holy Land has fulfilled your expectation?"
"It has more than done so," said the dean, bewildered by the suddenchange.
"For myself, it is, of course, impossible that I should evervisit any scenes except those to which my immediate work may callme,--never in this world. The new Jerusalem is still within myreach,--if it be not forfeited by pride and obstinacy; but the oldJerusalem I can never behold. Methinks, because it is so, I wouldsooner stand with my foot on Mount Olivet, or drink a cup of waterin the village of Bethany, than visit any other spot within thetraveller's compass. The sources of the Nile, of which men now talkso much,--I see it in the papers and reviews which the ladies atFramley 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 makesmy mouth water but little, nor even Athens much. I can realizewithout seeing all that Athens could show me, and can fancy that theexisting truth would destroy more than it would build up. But to havestood on Calvary!"
"We don't know where Calvary was," said the dean.
"I fancy that I should know,--should know enough," said the illogicaland unreasonable Mr. Crawley. "Is it true that you can look overfrom the spot on which He stood as He came across the brow of thehill, and see the huge stones of the Temple placed there by Solomon'smen,--as He saw them;--right across the brook Cedron, is it not?"
"It is all there, Crawley,--just as your knowledge of it tells you."
"In the privilege of seeing those places I can almost envy a manhis--money." The last word he uttered after a pause. He had beenabout to say that under such temptation he could almost envy a manhis promotion but he bethought himself that on such an occasion asthis it would be better that he should spare the dean. "And now, ifyou 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 thelittle path, and the dean was fain to follow him, even though he hadsaid so little of all that he had intended to say.
As soon as he was with Mrs. Crawley he repeated his apology aboutthe cheque, and found himself better able to explain himself than hecould do when alone with her husband. "Of course, it has been ourfault," he said.
"Oh, no," said Mrs. Crawley, "how can you have been in fault whenyour only object was to do us good?" But, nevertheless, the dean tookthe blame upon his own shoulders, or, rather upon those of his wife,and declared himself to be responsible for all the trouble about thecheque.
"Let it go," said Crawley, after sitting for awhile in silence; "letit pass."
"You cannot wonder, Crawley," said the dean, "that I should have feltmyself obliged to speak of it."
"For the future it will be well that it should be forgotten," saidCrawley; "or, if not forgotten, treated as though forgotten. And now,dean, what must I do about the living?"
"Just resume it, as though nothing had happened."
"But that may hardly be done without the bishop's authority. I speak,of course, with deference to your higher and better information onsuch subjects. My experience in the taking up and laying down oflivings has not been extended. But it seemeth to me that though itmay certainly be in your power to nominate me again to the perpetualcuracy of this parish,--presuming your patronage to be unlimited andnot to reach you in rotation only,--yet the bishop may demand toinstitute again, and must so demand, unless he pleases to permit thatmy letter to him shall be revoked and cancelled."
"Of course he will do anything of that kind. He must know thecircumstances as well as you and I do."
"At present they tell me that he is much afflicted by the death ofhis wife, and, therefore, can hardly be expected to take immediateaction. There came here on the last Sunday one Mr. Snapper, hislordship's chaplain."
"We all know Snapper," said the dean. "Snapper is not a bad littlefellow."
"I say nothing of his being bad, my friend, but merely mention thefact that on Sunday morning last he performed the service in ourchurch. On the Sunday previous, one Mr. Thumble was here."
"We all know Thumble, too," said the dean; "or, at least, knowsomething about him."
"He has been a thorn in our sides," said Mrs. Crawley, unable torestrain the expression of her dislike when Mr. Thumble's name wasmentioned.
"Nay, my dear, nay;--do not allow yourself the use of language sostrong against a brother. Our flesh at that time was somewhat proneto fester, and little thorns made us very sore."
"He is a horrible man," said Jane, almost in a whisper; but the wordswere distinctly audible by the dean.
"They need not come any more," said Arabin.
"That is where I fear we differ. I think they must come,--or someothers in their place,--till the bishop shall have expressed hispleasure to the contrary. I have submitted myself to his lordship,and, having done so, feel that I cannot again go up into my pulpittill he shall have authorized me to do so. For a time, Arabin, Icombated the bishop, believing,--then and now,--that he put forth hishand against me after a fashion which the law had not sanctioned. AndI made bold to stand in his presence and to tell him that I would notobey him, except in things legal. But afterwards, when he proceededformally, through the action of a commission, I submitted myself. AndI regard myself still as being under submission."
It was impossible to shake him. Arabin remained there for more thanan hour, trying to pass on to another subject, but being constantlybrought back by Mr. Crawley himself to the fact of his own dependentposition. Nor would he condescend to supplicate the bishop. It was,he surmised, the duty of Dr. Tempest, together with the other fourclergymen, to report to the bishop on the question of the allegedtheft; and then doubtless the bishop, when he had duly consideredthe report, and,--as Mr. Crawley seemed to think was essentiallynecessary,--had sufficiently recovered from the grief at his wife'sdeath, would, at his leisure, communicate his decision to Mr.Crawley. Nothing could be more complete than Mr. Crawley's humilityin reference to the bishop; and he never seemed to be tired ofdeclaring that he had submitted himself!
And then the dean, finding it to be vain to expect to be left alonewith Mr. Crawley for a moment,--in vain also to wait for a properopening for that which he had to say,--rushed violently at his othersubject. "And now, Mrs. Crawley," he said, "Mrs. Arabin wishes youall to come over to the deanery for a while and stay with us."
"Mrs. Arabin is too kind," said Mrs. Crawley, looking across at herhusband.
"We should like it of all things," said the dean, with perhaps moreof good nature than of truth. "Of course you must have been knockedabout a good deal."
"Indeed we have," said Mrs. Crawley.
"And till you are somewhat settled again, I think that the change ofscene would be good for all of you. Come, Crawley, I'll talk to youevery evening about Jerusalem for as long as you please;--and thenthere will perhaps come back to us something of the pleasantnessof old days." As she heard this Mrs. Crawley's eyes became full oftears, and she could not altogether hide them. What she had enduredduring the last four months had almost broken her spirit. The burdenhad at last been too heavy for her strength. "You cannot fancy,Crawley, how often I have thought of the old days and wished thatthey might return. I have found it very hard to get an opportunity ofsaying so much to you; but I will say it now."
"It may hardly be as you say," said Crawley, grimly.
"You mean that the old days can never be brought back?"
"Assuredly they cannot. But it was not that that I meant. It may notbe that I and mine should transfer ourselves to your roof and sojournthere."
"Why should you not?"
"The reasons are many, and on the face of things. The reason,perhaps, the most on the face is to be found in my wife's gown, andin my coat." This Mr. Crawley said very gravely, looking neither tothe right nor to the left, nor at the face of any of them, nor at hisown garment, nor at hers, but straight before him; and when he hadso spoken he said not a word further,--not going on to dilate on hispoverty as the dean expected that he would do.
"At such a time such reasons should stand for nothing," said thedean.
"And why not now as they always do, and always must till the powerof tailors shall have waned, and the daughters of Eve shall toil andspin no more? Like to like is true, and should be held to be true, ofall 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 tolike;--for the new gloss of your coat,"--the dean, as it happened,had on at the moment a very old coat, his oldest coat, selectedperhaps with some view to this special visit,--"does not obtrudeitself in my household, as would the threadbare texture of mine inyours;--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 often comforted meand so often confuted me; whom I may perhaps on an occasion haveconfuted--and perhaps have comforted. But were I sitting with you inyour library in Barchester, my threadbare coat would be too much forme. I should be silent, if not sullen. I should feel the weight ofall my poverty, and the greater weight of all your wealth. For mychildren, let them go. I have come to know that they will be betteraway from me."
"Papa!" said Jane.
"Papa does not mean it," said Grace, coming up to him and standingclose to him.
There was silence amongst them for a few moments, and then the masterof the house shook himself,--literally shook himself, till he hadshaken off the cloud. He had taken Grace by the hand, and thrustingout the other arm had got it round Jane's waist. "When a man hasgirls, Arabin," he said, "as you have, but not big girls yet likeGrace here, of course he knows that they will fly away."
"I shall not fly away," said Jane.
"I don't know what papa means," said Grace.
Upon the whole the dean thought it the pleasantest visit he had evermade to Hogglestock, and when he got home he told his wife that hebelieved that the accusation made against Mr. Crawley ha
d done himgood. "I could not say a word in private to her," he said, "but Idid promise that you would go and see her." On the very next day Mrs.Arabin went over, and I think that the visit was a comfort to Mrs.Crawley.
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