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

to know how she was to carry through her present plan of operations. The duty of beginning, however, was clearly with her, and therefore, having taken Lucy by the hand, she spoke.

“Miss Robarts,” she said, “my son has come home. I don’t know whether you are aware of it.”

She spoke with a low, gentle voice, not quite like herself, but Lucy was much too confused to notice this.

“I was not aware of it,” said Lucy.

She had, however, been so informed in Fanny’s letter, but all that had gone out of her head.

“Yes; he has come back. He has been in Norway, you know⁠—fishing.”

“Yes,” said Lucy.

“I am sure you will remember all that took place when you came to me, not long ago, in my little room upstairs at Framley Court.”

In answer to which, Lucy, quivering in every nerve, and wrongly thinking that she was visibly shaking in every limb, timidly answered that she did remember. Why was it that she had then been so bold, and now was so poor a coward?

“Well, my dear, all that I said to you then I said to you thinking that it was for the best. You, at any rate, will not be angry with me for loving my own son better than I love anyone else.”

“Oh, no,” said Lucy.

“He is the best of sons, and the best of men, and I am sure that he will be the best of husbands.”

Lucy had an idea, by instinct, however, rather than by sight, that Lady Lufton’s eyes were full of tears as she spoke. As for herself she was altogether blinded and did not dare to lift her face or to turn her head. As for the utterance of any sound, that was quite out of the question.

“And now I have come here, Lucy, to ask you to be his wife.”

She was quite sure that she heard the words. They came plainly to her ears, leaving on her brain their proper sense, but yet she could not move or make any sign that she had understood them. It seemed as though it would be ungenerous in her to take advantage of such conduct and to accept an offer made with so much self-sacrifice. She had not time at the first moment to think even of his happiness, let alone her own, but she thought only of the magnitude of the concession which had been made to her. When she had constituted Lady Lufton the arbiter of her destiny she had regarded the question of her love as decided against herself. She had found herself unable to endure the position of being Lady Lufton’s daughter-in-law while Lady Lufton would be scorning her, and therefore she had given up the game. She had given up the game, sacrificing herself, and, as far as it might be a sacrifice, sacrificing him also. She had been resolute to stand to her word in this respect, but she had never allowed herself to think it possible that Lady Lufton should comply with the conditions which she, Lucy, had laid upon her. And yet such was the case, as she so plainly heard. “And now I have come here, Lucy, to ask you to be his wife.”

How long they sat together silent, I cannot say; counted by minutes the time would not probably have amounted to many, but to each of them the duration seemed considerable. Lady Lufton, while she was speaking, had contrived to get hold of Lucy’s hand, and she sat, still holding it, trying to look into Lucy’s face⁠—which, however, she could hardly see, so much was it turned away. Neither, indeed, were Lady Lufton’s eyes perfectly dry. No answer came to her question, and therefore, after a while, it was necessary that she should speak again.

“Must I go back to him, Lucy, and tell him that there is some other objection⁠—something besides a stern old mother; some hindrance, perhaps, not so easily overcome?”

“No,” said Lucy, and it was all which at the moment she could say.

“What shall I tell him, then? Shall I say yes⁠—simply yes?”

“Simply yes,” said Lucy.

“And as to the stern old mother who thought her only son too precious to be parted with at the first word⁠—is nothing to be said to her?”

“Oh, Lady Lufton!”

“No forgiveness to be spoken, no sign of affection to be given? Is she always to be regarded as stern and cross, vexatious and disagreeable?”

Lucy slowly turned round her head and looked up into her companion’s face. Though she had as yet no voice to speak of affection she could fill her eyes with love, and in that way make to her future mother all the promises that were needed.

“Lucy, dearest Lucy, you must be very dear to me now.” And then they were in each other’s arms, kissing each other.

Lady Lufton now desired her coachman to drive up and down for some little space along the road while she completed her necessary conversation with Lucy. She wanted at first to carry her back to Framley that evening, promising to send her again to Mrs. Crawley on the following morning⁠—“till some permanent arrangement could be made,” by which Lady Lufton intended the substitution of a regular nurse for her future daughter-in-law, seeing that Lucy Robarts was now invested in her eyes with attributes which made it unbecoming that she should sit in attendance at Mrs. Crawley’s bedside. But Lucy would not go back to Framley on that evening; no, nor on the next morning. She would be so glad if Fanny would come to her there, and then she would arrange about going home.

“But, Lucy, dear, what am I to say to Ludovic? Perhaps you would feel it awkward if he were to come to see you here.”

“Oh, yes, Lady Lufton; pray tell him not to do that.”

“And is that all that I am to tell him?”

“Tell him⁠—tell him⁠—He won’t want you to tell him anything;⁠—only I should like to be quiet for a day, Lady Lufton.”

“Well, dearest, you shall be quiet;