Mr. Saul then departed, and from this interview had arisen that state of things in the parish which had induced Mrs. Clavering to call Harry to their assistance. The rector had become more energetic on the subject than any of them had expected. He did not actually forbid his wife to see Mr. Saul, but he did say that Mr. Saul should not come to the rectory. Then there arose a question as to the Sunday services, and yet Mr. Clavering would have no intercourse with his curate. He would have no intercourse with him unless he would fix an immediate day for going, or else promise that he would think no more of Fanny. Hitherto he had done neither, and therefore Mrs. Clavering had sent for her son.
XXXIV
Mr. Saul’s Abode
When Harry Clavering left London he was not well, though he did not care to tell himself that he was ill. But he had been so harassed by his position, was so ashamed of himself, and as yet so unable to see any escape from his misery, that he was sore with fatigue and almost worn out with trouble. On his arrival at the parsonage, his mother at once asked him if he was ill, and received his petulant denial with an ill-satisfied countenance. That there was something wrong between him and Florence she suspected, but at the present moment she was not disposed to inquire into that matter. Harry’s love-affairs had for her a great interest, but Fanny’s love-affairs at the present moment were paramount in her bosom. Fanny, indeed, had become very troublesome since Mr. Saul’s visit to her father. On the evening of her conversation with her mother, and on the following morning, Fanny had carried herself with bravery, and Mrs. Clavering had been disposed to think that her daughter’s heart was not wounded deeply. She had admitted the impossibility of her marriage with Mr. Saul, and had never insisted on the strength of her attachment. But no sooner was she told that Mr. Saul had been banished from the house, than she took upon herself to mope in the most lovelorn fashion, and behaved herself as though she were the victim of an all-absorbing passion. Between her and her father no word on the subject had been spoken, and even to her mother she was silent, respectful, and subdued, as it becomes daughters to be who are hardly used when they are in love. Now, Mrs. Clavering felt that in this her daughter was not treating her well.
“But you don’t mean to say that she cares for him?” Harry said to his mother, when they were alone on the evening of his arrival.
“Yes, she cares for him, certainly. As far as I can tell, she cares for him very much.”
“It is the oddest thing I ever knew in my life. I should have said he was the last man in the world for success of that kind.”
“One never can tell, Harry. You see he is a very good young man.”
“But girls don’t fall in love with men because they’re good, mother.”
“I hope they do—for that and other things together.”
“But he has got none of the other things. What a pity it was that he was let to stay here after he first made a fool of himself.”
“It’s too late to think of that now, Harry. Of course she can’t marry him. They would have nothing to live on. I should say that he has no prospect of a living.”
“I can’t conceive how a man can do such a wicked thing,” said Harry, moralizing, and forgetting for a moment his own sins. “Coming into a house like this, and in such a position, and then undermining a girl’s affections, when he must know that it is quite out of the question that he should marry her! I call it downright wicked. It is treachery of the worst sort, and coming from a clergyman is of course the more to be condemned. I shan’t be slow to tell him my mind.”
“You will gain nothing by quarrelling with him.”
“But how can I help it, if I am to see him at all?”
“I mean that I would not be rough with him. The great thing is to make him feel that he should go away as soon as possible, and renounce all idea of seeing Fanny again. You see, your father will have no conversation with him at all, and it is so disagreeable about the services. They’ll have to meet in the vestry-room on Sunday, and they won’t speak. Will not that be terrible? Anything will be better than that he should remain here.”
“And what will my father do for a curate?”
“He can’t do anything till he knows when Mr. Saul will go. He talks of taking all the services himself.”
“He couldn’t do it, mother. He must not think of it. However, I’ll see Saul the first thing tomorrow.”
The next day was Tuesday, and Harry proposed to leave the rectory at ten o’clock for Mr. Saul’s lodgings. Before he did so, he had a few words with his father, who professed even deeper animosity against Mr. Saul than his son. “After that,” he said, “I’ll believe that a girl may fall in love with any man! People say all manner of things about the folly of girls; but nothing but this—nothing short of this—would have convinced me that it was possible that Fanny should have been such a fool. An ape of a fellow—not made like a man—with a thin hatchet face, and unwholesome stubbly chin. Good heavens!”
“He has talked her into it.”
“But he is such an ass. As far as I know him, he can’t say Bo! to a goose.”
“There I think you are perhaps wrong.”
“Upon my word, I’ve never been able to get a word from him
