Framley Parsonage (72 page)

‘The disgrace shall fall on Sowerby,’ said Robarts, hardly actuated at the moment by any strong feeling of Christian forgiveness.

‘I fear, Mr Robarts, that he is somewhat in the condition of the Tozers. He will not feel it as
you will do.’

‘I must bear it, Mr Forrest, as best I may.’

‘Will you allow me, Mr Robarts, to give you my advice. Perhaps I ought to apologize for intruding it upon you; but as the bills have been presented and dishonoured across my counter, I have, of necessity, become acquainted with the circumstances.’

‘I am sure I am very much obliged to you,’ said Mark.

‘You must pay this money, or, at
any rate, the most considerable portion of it; – the whole of it, indeed, with such deduction as a lawyer may be able to induce these hawks to make on the sight of the ready money. Perhaps 750
l
. or 800
l
. may see you clear of the whole affair.’

‘But I have not a quarter of that sum lying by me.’

‘No, I suppose not; but what I would recommend is this: that you should borrow the money from the
bank, on your own responsibility, – with the joint security of some friend who may be willing to assist you with his name. Lord Lufton probably would do it.’

‘No, Mr Forrest –’

‘Listen to me first, before you make up your mind. If you took this step, of course you would do so with the fixed intention of paying the money yourself, – without any further reliance on Sowerby or on any one else.’

‘I shall not rely on Mr Sowerby again; you may be sure of that.’

‘What I mean is that you must teach yourself to recognize the debt as your own. If you can do that, with your income you can surely pay it, with interest, in two years. If Lord Lufton will assist you with his name I will so arrange the bills that the payments shall be made to fall equally over that period. In that way the world will
know nothing about it, and in two years’ time you will once more be a free man. Many men, Mr Robarts, have bought their experience much dearer than that, I can assure you.’

‘Mr Forrest, it is quite out of the question.’

‘You mean that Lord Lufton will not give you his name.’

‘I certainly shall not ask him, but that is not all. In the first place my income will not be what you think it, for
I shall probably give up the prebend at Barchester.’

‘Give up the prebend! give up six hundred a year!’

‘And, beyond this, I think I may say that nothing shall tempt me to put my name to another bill. I have learned a lesson which I hope I may never forget.’

‘Then what do you intend to do?’

‘Nothing!’

‘Then those men will sell every stick of furniture about the place. They know that your
property here is enough to secure all that they claim.’

‘If they have the power, they must sell it.’

‘And all the world will know the facts.’

‘So it must be. Of the faults which a man commits he must bear the punishment. If it were only myself!’

‘That’s where it is, Mr Robarts. Think what your wife will have to suffer in going through such misery as that! You had better take my advice. Lord
Lufton, I am sure –’

But the very name of Lord Lufton, his sister’s lover, again gave him courage. He thought, too, of the accusations which Lord Lufton had brought against him on that night when he had come to him in the coffee-room of the hotel, and he felt that it was impossible that he should apply to him for such aid. It would be better to tell all to Lady Lufton! That she would relieve
him, let the cost to herself be what it might, he was very sure. Only this; – that in looking to her for assistance he would be forced to bite the dust in very deed.

‘Thank you, Mr Forrest, but I have made up my mind. Do not think that I am the less obliged to you for your disinterested kindness, – for I know that it is disinterested; but this I think I may confidently say, that not even to avert
so terrible a calamity will I again put my name to any bill. Even if you could take my own promise to pay without the addition of any second name, I would not do it.’

There was nothing for Mr Forrest to do under such circumstances
but simply to drive back to Barchester. He had done the best for the young clergyman according to his lights, and perhaps, in a worldly view, his advice had not been
bad. But Mark dreaded the very name of a bill. He was as a dog that had been terribly scorched, and nothing should again induce him to go near the fire.

‘Was not that the man from the bank?’ said Fanny, coming into the room when the sound of the wheels had died away.

‘Yes; Mr Forrest.’

‘Well, dearest?’

‘We must prepare ourselves for the worst.’

‘You will not sign any more papers, eh, Mark?’

‘No; I have just now positively refused to do so.’

‘Then I can bear anything. But, dearest, dearest Mark, will you not let me tell Lady Lufton?’

Let them look at the matter in any way the punishment was very heavy.

A
ND
now a month went by at Framley without any increase of comfort to our friends there, and also without any absolute development of the ruin which had been daily expected at the parsonage. Sundry letters had reached Mr Robarts from various personages acting in the Tozer interest, all of which he referred to Mr Curling, of Barchester. Some of these letters
contained prayers for the money, pointing out how an innocent widow lady had been induced to invest her all on the faith of Mr Robarts’ name, and was now starving in a garret, with her three children, because Mr Robarts would not make good his own undertakings. But the majority of them were filled with threats; – only two days longer would be allowed and then the sheriff’s officers would be
enjoined to do their work; then one day of grace would be added, at the expiration of which the dogs of war would be unloosed. These, as fast as they came, were sent to Mr Curling, who took no notice of them individually, but continued his endeavour to prevent the evil day. The second bill Mr Robarts would take up – such was Mr Curling’s proposition; and would pay by two instalments of 250
l
. each,
the first in two months, and the second in four. If this were acceptable to the Tozer interest – well; if it were not, the sheriff’s officers must do their worst and the Tozer interest must look for what it could get. The Tozer interest would not declare itself satisfied with these terms, and so the matter 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 Framley Court,
¹
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 her little present
to him. I suppose there is no pleasure a mother can have more attractive than giving away her money to an only son.

Lucy’s name was first mentioned at breakfast the next morning. Lord Lufton had made up his mind to attack his mother on the subject early in the morning – before he went up to the parsonage; but as matters turned out Miss Robarts’ doings were necessarily brought under discussion
without reference to Lord Lufton’s special aspirations regarding her. The fact of Mrs Crawley’s illness had been mentioned, and Lady Lufton had stated how it had come to pass that all the Crawleys’ children were at the parsonage.

‘I must say that Fanny has behaved excellently,’ said Lady Lufton. ‘It was just what might have been expected from her. And indeed,’ she added, speaking in an embarrassed
tone, ‘so has Miss Robarts. Miss Robarts has remained at Hogglestock and nursed Mrs Crawley through the whole.’

‘Remained at Hogglestock – through the fever!’ exclaimed his lordship.

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Lady Lufton.

‘And is she there now?’

‘Oh, yes; I am not aware that she thinks of leaving just yet.’

‘Then I say that it is a great shame – a scandalous shame!’

‘But, Ludovic, it was her own
doing.’

‘Oh, yes; I understand. But why should she be sacrificed? Were there no nurses in the country to be hired, but that she must
go and remain there for a month at the bedside of a pestilent fever? There is no justice in it.’

‘Justice, Ludovic? I don’t know about justice, but there was great Christian charity. Mrs Crawley has probably owed her life to Miss Robarts.’

‘Has she been ill? Is
she ill? I insist upon knowing whether she is ill. I shall go over to Hogglestock myself immediately after breakfast.’

To this Lady Lufton made no reply. If Lord Lufton chose to go to Hogglestock she could not prevent him. She thought, however, that it would be much better that he should stay away. He would be quite as open to the infection as Lucy Robarts; and, moreover, Mrs Crawley’s bedside
would be as inconvenient a place as might be selected for any interview between two lovers. Lady Lufton felt at the present moment that she was cruelly treated by circumstances with reference to Miss Robarts. Of course it would have been her part to lessen, if she could do so without injustice, that high idea which her son entertained of the beauty and worth of the young lady; but, unfortunately,
she had been compelled to praise her and to load her name with all manner of eulogy. Lady Lufton was essentially a true woman, and not even with the object of carrying out her own views in so important a matter would she be guilty of such deception as she might have practised by simply holding her tongue; but nevertheless she could hardly reconcile herself to the necessity of singing Lucy’s praises.