And now, at this period, terrible rumours found their way into Barchester, and flew about the cathedral towers and round the cathedral door; aye, and into the canons’ houses and the humbler sitting-rooms of the vicars choral. Whether they made their way 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 sequestered,’ 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 sequestered, 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 his 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 a minor canon.

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

‘And is he not 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 the 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 depressing 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 rumour flies, making herself common through all the cities. That Mrs Proudie should have known more of the facts connected with the Hartletop family than any one else in Barchester was not surprising, seeing that she was so much more conversant with the great world in which such people lived. She knew, and was therefore correct enough in declaring, that Lord Dumbello had already jilted one other young lady — the Lady Julia Mac Mull, to whom he had been engaged three seasons back, and that therefore his character in such matters was not to be trusted. That Lady Julia had been a terrible flirt and greatly given to waltzing with a certain German count, with whom she had since gone off — that, I suppose, Mrs Proudie did not know, much as she was conversant with the great world,— seeing that she said nothing about it to any of her ecclesiastical listeners on the present occasion.

‘It will be a terrible warning, Mrs Quiverful, to us all; a most useful warning to us — not to trust to the things of this world. I fear they made no inquiry about this young nobleman before they agreed that his name should be linked with that of their daughter.’ This she said to the wife of the present warden of Hiram’s Hospital, a lady who had received favours from her, and was therefore bound to listen attentively to her voice.

‘But I hope it may not be true,’ said Mrs Quiverful, who, in spite of the allegiance due by her to Mrs Proudie, had reasons of her own for wishing well to the Grantly family.

‘I hope so, indeed,’ said Mrs Proudie, with a slight tinge of anger in her voice; ‘but I fear that there is no doubt. And I must confess that it is no more than we had a right to expect. I hope that it may be taken by all of us as a lesson, and an ensample, and a teaching of the Lord’s mercy. And I wish you would request your husband — from me, Mrs Quiverful — to dwell on this subject in morning and evening lecture at the hospital on Sabbath next, showing how false is the trust which we put in the good things of this world;’ which behest, to a certain extent, Mr Quiverful did obey, feeling that a quiet life at Barchester was of great value to him; but he did not go so far as to caution his hearers, who consisted of the aged bedesmen of the hospital, against matrimonial projects of an ambitious nature. In this case, as in all others of the kind, the report was known to all the chapter before it had been heard by the archdeacon or his wife. The dean heard it, and disregarded it; as did also the dean’s wife — at first; and those who generally sided with the Grantlys in the diocesan battles pooh-poohed the tidings, saying to each other that both the archdeacon and Mrs Grantly were very well able to take care of their own affairs. But dripping water hollows a stone; and at last it was admitted on all sides that there was ground for fear,— on all sides, except at Plumstead.

‘I am sure there is nothing in it; I really am sure of it,’ said Mrs Arabin, whispering to her sister; ‘but after turning it over in my mind, I thought it right to tell you. And yet I don’t know now but I am wrong.’

‘Quite right, dearest Eleanor,’ said Mrs Grantly. ‘And I am much obliged to you. But we understand it, you know. It comes, of course, like all other Christian blessings, from the palace.’ And then there was nothing more said on it between Mrs Grantly and her sister. But on the following morning there arrived a letter by post, addressed to Mrs Grantly, bearing the postmark of Littlebath. The letter ran:-

‘MADAM, ‘It is known to the writer that Lord Dumbello has arranged with certain friends how he may escape from his present engagement. I think, therefore, that it is my duty as a Christian to warn you of this. ‘Yours truly, ‘A WELLWISHER’

Now it had happened that the embryo Mrs Tickler’s most intimate bosom friend and confidante was known at Plumstead to live at Littlebath, and it had also happened — most unfortunately — that the embryo Mrs Tickler, in the warmth of her neighbourly regard, had written a friendly line to her friend Griselda Grantly, congratulating her with all the female sincerity on her splendid nuptials with the Lord Dumbello.

‘It is not her natural hand,’ said Mrs Grantly, talking the matter over with her husband, ‘but you may be sure it has come from her. It is part of the new Christianity which we learn day by day from the palace teaching.’ But these things had some effect on the archdeacon’s mind. He had learned lately the story of Lady Julia Mac Mull, and was not sure that his son-inlaw — as ought to be about to be — had been entirely blameless in that matter. And then in these days Lord Dumbello made no great sign. Immediately on Griselda’s return he had sent her a magnificent present of emeralds, which, however, had come to her direct from the jewellers, and might have been — and probably was — ordered by his man of business. Since that he had neither come, nor sent, nor written. Griselda did not seem to be in any way annoyed by this absence of the usual sign of love, and went on steadily with her great duties. Nothing, as she told her mother, had been said about writing, and, therefore, she did not expect it. But the archdeacon was not quite at his ease. ‘Keep Dumbello up to his p’s and q’s, you know,’ a friend of his had whispered to him at his club. By heavens, yes. The archdeacon was not a man to bear with indifference a wrong in such a quarter. In spite of his clerical profession, few men were more inclined to fight against personal wrongs — and few men more able.

‘Can there by anything wrong, I wonder?’ said he to his wife. ‘Is it worth while that I should go up to London?’ But Mrs Grantly attributed it all to the palace doctrine. What could be more natural, looking at all the circumstances of the Tickler engagement? She therefore gave her voice against any steps being taken by the archdeacon. A day or two after that Mrs Proudie met Mrs Arabin in the close and condoled with her openly on the termination of the marriage treaty;— quite openly, for Mrs Tickler — as she was to be — was with her mother, and Mrs Arabin was accompanied by her sister-inlaw, Mary Bold.

‘It must be very grievous to Mrs Grantly, very grievous indeed,’ said Mrs Proudie, ‘and I sincerely feel for her. But, Mrs Arabin, all these lessons are sent to us for our eternal welfare.’

‘Of course,’ said Mrs Arabin. ‘But as to this special lesson, I am inclined to doubt that it —’

‘Ah-h! I fear it is too true. I fear that there is no room for doubt. Of course you are aware that Lord Dumbello is off for the Continent.’ Mrs Arabin was not aware of it and she was obliged to admit as much.

‘He started four days ago, by way of Boulogne,’ said Mrs Tickler, who seemed to be very well up in the whole affair. ‘I am so sorry for poor dear Griselda. I am told she has got all her things. It is such a pity, you know.’

‘But why should not Lord Dumbello come back from the Continent?’ said Miss Bold, very quietly.

‘Why not, indeed? I’m sure I hope he may,’ said Mrs Proudie. ‘And no doubt he will some day. But if he be such a man as they say he is, it is really well for Griselda that she should be relieved from such a marriage. For, after all, Mrs Arab............