Framley Parsonage - Anthony Trollope (mobi reader android .txt) 📗

went on. During which the roses faded from day to day on the cheeks of Mrs. Robarts, as under such circumstances may easily be conceived.

In the meantime Lucy still remained at Hogglestock and had there become absolute mistress of the house. Poor Mrs. Crawley had been at death’s door; for some days she was delirious, and afterwards remained so weak as to be almost unconscious; but now the worst was over, and Mr. Crawley had been informed, that as far as human judgment might pronounce, his children would not become orphans nor would he become a widower. During these weeks Lucy had not once been home nor had she seen any of the Framley people. “Why should she incur the risk of conveying infection for so small an object?” as she herself argued, writing by letters, which were duly fumigated before they were opened at the parsonage. So she remained at Hogglestock, and the Crawley children, now admitted to all the honours of the nursery, were kept at Framley. They were kept at Framley, although it was expected from day to day that the beds on which they lay would be seized for the payment of Mr. Sowerby’s debts.

Lucy, as I have said, became mistress of the house at Hogglestock and made herself absolutely ascendant over Mr. Crawley. Jellies, and broth, and fruit, and even butter, came from Lufton Court, which she displayed on the table, absolutely on the cloth before him, and yet he bore it. I cannot say that he partook of these delicacies with any freedom himself, but he did drink his tea when it was given to him although it contained Framley cream;⁠—and, had he known it, Bohea itself from the Framley chest. In truth, in these days, he had given himself over to the dominion of this stranger; and he said nothing beyond, “Well, well,” with two uplifted hands, when he came upon her as she was sewing the buttons on to his own shirts⁠—sewing on the buttons and perhaps occasionally applying her needle elsewhere⁠—not without utility.

He said to her at this period very little in the way of thanks. Some protracted conversations they did have, now and again, during the long evenings; but even in these he did not utter many words as to their present state of life. It was on religion chiefly that he spoke, not lecturing her individually, but laying down his ideas as to what the life of a Christian should be, and especially what should be the life of a minister. “But though I can see this, Miss Robarts,” he said, “I am bound to say that no one has fallen off so frequently as myself. I have renounced the devil and all his works; but it is by word of mouth only⁠—by word of mouth only. How shall a man crucify the old Adam that is within him, unless he throw himself prostrate in the dust and acknowledge that all his strength is weaker than water?” To this, often as it might be repeated, she would listen patiently, comforting him by such words as her theology would supply; but then, when this was over, she would again resume her command and enforce from him a close obedience to her domestic behests.

At the end of the month Lord Lufton came back to Framley Court. His arrival there was quite unexpected; though, as he pointed out when his mother expressed some surprise, he had returned exactly at the time named by him before he started.

“I need not say, Ludovic, how glad I am to have you,” said she, looking to his face and pressing his arm; “the more so, indeed, seeing that I hardly expected it.”

He said nothing to his mother about Lucy the first evening, although there was some conversation respecting the Robarts family.

“I am afraid Mr. Robarts has embarrassed himself,” said Lady Lufton, looking very seriously. “Rumours reach me which are most distressing. I have said nothing to anybody as yet⁠—not even to Fanny; but I can see in her face, and hear in the tones of her voice, that she is suffering some great sorrow.”

“I know all about it,” said Lord Lufton.

“You know all about it, Ludovic?”

“Yes; it is through that precious friend of mine, Mr. Sowerby, of Chaldicotes. He has accepted bills for Sowerby; indeed, he told me so.”

“What business had he at Chaldicotes? What had he to do with such friends as that? I do not know how I am to forgive him.”

“It was through me that he became acquainted with Sowerby. You must remember that, mother.”

“I do not see that that is any excuse. Is he to consider that all your acquaintances must necessarily be his friends also? It is reasonable to suppose that you in your position must live occasionally with a great many people who are altogether unfit companions for him as a parish clergyman. He will not remember this, and he must be taught it. What business had he to go to Gatherum Castle?”

“He got his stall at Barchester by going there.”

“He would be much better without his stall, and Fanny has the sense to know this. What does he want with two houses? Prebendal stalls are for older men than he⁠—for men who have earned them, and who at the end of their lives want some ease. I wish with all my heart that he had never taken it.”

“Six hundred a year has its charms all the same,” said Lufton, getting up and strolling out of the room.

“If Mark really be in any difficulty,” he said, later in the evening, “we must put him on his legs.”

“You mean, pay his debts?”

“Yes; he has no debts except these acceptances of Sowerby’s.”

“How much will it be, Ludovic?”

“A thousand pounds, perhaps, more or less. I’ll find the money, mother; only I shan’t be able to pay you quite as soon as I intended.” Whereupon his mother got up, and throwing her arms round his neck declared that she would never forgive him if he ever said a word more about