And 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 in the faith of Mr Robarts’s 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 250L 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 so the matter went on. During which the roses faded from day to day on the cheeks of Mrs Robarts, as under the 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 judgement 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, by writing 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, 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 of 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 into 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 that Mr Robarts has embarrassed himself,’ said Lady Lufton, looking very seriously. ‘Rumours reach me which are most distressing. I have said nothing further 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.’
‘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 as any excuse. Is he to consider that 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’s 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 Crawley children were at the parsonage.
‘I must say 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 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 the 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.
After breakfast Lady Lufton got up from her chair, but hung about the room without making any show of leaving. In accordance with her usual custom she would have asked her son what he was going to do; but she did not dare so to inquire now. Had he not declared, only a few minutes since, whither he would go? ‘I suppose I shall see you at lunch?’ at last she said.
‘At lunch? Well, I don’t know. Look here, mother. What am I to say to Miss Robarts when I see her?’ and he leaned with his back against the chimney-piece as he interrogated his mother.
‘What are you going to say to her, Ludovic?’
‘Yes, what am I to say,— as coming from you? Am I to tell her that you will receive her as your daughter-inlaw?’
‘Ludovic, I have explained all that to Miss Robarts herself.’
‘Explained what?’
‘I have told her that I did not think that such a marriage would make either you or her happy.’
‘And why have you told her so? Why have you taken upon yourself to judge for me in such a matter, as though I were a child? Mother, you must unsay what you have said.’ Lord Lufton, as he spoke, looked full into his mother’s face; and he did so, not as though he were begging from her a favour, but issuing to her a command. She stood near him, with one hand on the breakfast-table, gazing at him almost furtively, not quite daring to meet the full view of his eye. There was only one thing on earth which Lady Lufton feared, and that was her son’s displeasure. The sun of her earthly heaven shone upon her through the medium of his existence. If she were driven to quarrel with him, as some ladies of her acquaintance were driven to quarrel with their sons, the world for her would be over. Not but what facts might be so strong as to make it absolutely necessary that she should do this. As some people might resolve that, under certain circumstances, they will commit suicide, so she could see that, under certain circumstances, she must consent even to be separated from him. She would not do wrong,— not that which she knew to be wrong,— even for his sake. If it were necessary that all her happiness should collapse and be crushed in ruin around her, she must endure it, and wait God’s time to relieve her from so dark a world. The light of the sun was very dear to her, but even that might be purchased a............