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

all right between you and her ladyship about this affair of Sowerby’s.”

And then he took his leave and walked off to settle about the payment of the money.

“Mother,” said he to Lady Lufton that evening, “you must not bring this affair of the bailiffs up against Robarts. It has been more my fault than his.”

Hitherto not a word had been spoken between Lady Lufton and her son on the subject. She had heard with terrible dismay of what had happened, and had heard also that Lord Lufton had immediately gone to the parsonage. It was impossible, therefore, that she should now interfere. That the necessary money would be forthcoming she was aware, but that would not wipe out the terrible disgrace attached to an execution in a clergyman’s house. And then, too, he was her clergyman⁠—her own clergyman, selected, and appointed, and brought to Framley by herself, endowed with a wife of her own choosing, filled with good things by her own hand! It was a terrible misadventure, and she began to repent that she had ever heard the name of Robarts. She would not, however, have been slow to put forth the hand to lessen the evil by giving her own money, had this been either necessary or possible. But how could she interfere between Robarts and her son, especially when she remembered the proposed connection between Lucy and Lord Lufton?

“Your fault, Ludovic?”

“Yes, mother. It was I who introduced him to Mr. Sowerby; and, to tell the truth, I do not think he would ever have been intimate with Sowerby if I had not given him some sort of a commission with reference to money matters then pending between Mr. Sowerby and me. They are all over now⁠—thanks to you, indeed.”

“Mr. Robarts’ character as a clergyman should have kept him from such troubles, if no other feeling did so.”

“At any rate, mother, oblige me by letting it pass by.”

“Oh, I shall say nothing to him.”

“You had better say something to her, or otherwise it will be strange; and even to him I would say a word or two⁠—a word in kindness, as you so well know how. It will be easier to him in that way, than if you were to be altogether silent.”

No further conversation took place between them at the time, but later in the evening she brushed her hand across her son’s forehead, sweeping the long silken hairs into their place, as she was wont to do when moved by any special feeling of love. “Ludovic,” she said, “no one, I think, has so good a heart as you. I will do exactly as you would have me about this affair of Mr. Robarts and the money.” And then there was nothing more said about it.

XLV Palace Blessings

And now, at this period, terrible rumours found their way into Barchester, and flew about the cathedral towers and round the cathedral door; ay, and into the canons’ houses and the humbler sitting-rooms of the vicars choral. Whether they made their way from thence up to the bishop’s palace, or whether they descended from the palace to the close, I will not pretend to say. But they were shocking, unnatural, and no doubt grievous to all those excellent ecclesiastical hearts which cluster so thickly in those quarters.

The first of these had reference to the new prebendary, and to the disgrace which he had brought on the chapter; a disgrace, as some of them boasted, which Barchester had never known before. This, however, like most other boasts, was hardly true; for within but a very few years there had been an execution in the house of a late prebendary, old Dr. Stanhope; and on that occasion the doctor himself had been forced to fly away to Italy, starting in the night, lest he also should fall into the hands of the Philistines, as well as his chairs and tables.

“It is a scandalous shame,” said Mrs. Proudie, speaking not of the old doctor, but of the new offender; “a scandalous shame: and it would only serve him right if the gown were stripped from his back.”

“I suppose his living will be sequestrated,” said a young minor canon who attended much to the ecclesiastical injunctions of the lady of the diocese, and was deservedly held in high favour. If Framley were sequestrated, why should not he, as well as another, undertake the duty⁠—with such stipend as the bishop might award?

“I am told that he is over head and ears in debt,” said the future Mrs. Tickler, “and chiefly for horses which he has bought and not paid for.”

“I see him riding very splendid animals when he comes over for the cathedral duties,” said the minor canon.

“The sheriff’s officers are in the house at present, I am told,” said Mrs. Proudie.

“And is not he in jail?” said Mrs. Tickler.

“If not, he ought to be,” said Mrs. Tickler’s mother.

“And no doubt soon will be,” said the minor canon; “for I hear that he is linked up with a most discreditable gang of persons.”

This was what was said in the palace on that heading; and though, no doubt, more spirit and poetry was displayed there than in the houses of the less gifted clergy, this shows the manner in which the misfortune of Mr. Robarts was generally discussed. Nor, indeed, had he deserved any better treatment at their hands. But his name did not run the gauntlet for the usual nine days; nor, indeed, did his fame endure at its height for more than two. This sudden fall was occasioned by other tidings of a still more distressing nature; by a rumour which so affected Mrs. Proudie that it caused, as she said, her blood to creep. And she was very careful that the blood of others should creep also, if the blood of others was equally sensitive. It was said that Lord Dumbello had jilted Miss Grantly.

From what adverse spot in the world these cruel tidings fell upon Barchester I have never been able to discover. We know how quickly