He meant no deceit, and yet he had told himself within the last hour that he should never see another summer. He could not tell even his daughter that after such a life as this, after more than fifty years spent in the ministrations of his darling cathedral, it specially behoved him to die—as he had lived—at Barchester. He could not say this to his eldest daughter; but had his Eleanor been at home, he could have said it to her. He thought he might yet live to see his Eleanor once again. If this could be given to him he would ask for nothing more.
On the afternoon of the next day, Mrs. Baxter wrote another letter, in which she told Mrs. Grantly that her father had declared, at his usual hour of rising that morning, that as he was not going to the cathedral he would, he thought, lie in bed a little longer. And then he had lain in bed the whole day. “And, perhaps, honoured madam, looking at all things, it’s best as he should,” said Mrs. Baxter.
L
Lady Lufton’s Proposition
It was now known throughout Barchester that a commission was to be held by the bishop’s orders, at which inquiry would be made—that is, ecclesiastical inquiry—as to the guilt imputed to Mr. Crawley in the matter of Mr. Soames’s cheque. Sundry rumours had gone abroad as to quarrels which had taken place on the subject among certain clergymen high in office; but these were simply rumours, and nothing was in truth known. There was no more discreet clergyman in all the diocese than Dr. Tempest, and not a word had escaped from him as to the stormy nature of that meeting in the bishop’s palace, at which he had attended with the bishop—and at which Mrs. Proudie had attended also. When it is said that the fact of this coming commission was known to all Barsetshire, allusion is of course made to that portion of the inhabitants of Barsetshire to which clerical matters were dear;—and as such matters were specially dear to the inhabitants of the parish of Framley, the commission was discussed very eagerly in that parish, and was specially discussed by the Dowager Lady Lufton.
And there was a double interest attached to the commission in the parish of Framley by the fact that Mr. Robarts, the vicar, had been invited by Dr. Tempest to be one of the clergymen who were to assist in making the inquiry.
“I also propose to ask Mr. Oriel of Greshamsbury to join us,” said Dr. Tempest. “The bishop wishes to appoint the other two, and has already named Mr. Thumble and Mr. Quiverful, who are both residents in the city. Perhaps his lordship may be right in thinking it better that the matter should not be left altogether in the hands of clergymen who hold livings in the diocese. You are no doubt aware that neither Mr. Thumble nor Mr. Quiverful do hold any benefice.” Mr. Robarts felt—as everybody else did feel who knew anything of the matter—that Bishop Proudie was singularly ignorant in his knowledge of men, and that he showed his ignorance on this special occasion.
“If he intended to name two such men he should at any rate have named three,” said Dr. Thorne. “Mr. Thumble and Mr. Quiverful will simply be outvoted on the first day, and after that will give in their adhesion to the majority.”
“Mr. Thumble, indeed!” Lady Lufton had said, with much scorn in her voice. To her thinking, it was absurd in the highest degree that such men as Dr. Tempest and her Mr. Robarts should be asked to meet Mr. Thumble and Mr. Quiverful on a matter of ecclesiastical business. Outvoted! Of course they would be outvoted. Of course they would be so paralyzed by fear at finding themselves in the presence of real gentlemen, that they would hardly be able to vote at all. Old Lady Lufton did not in fact utter words so harsh as these; but thoughts as harsh passed through her mind. The reader therefore will understand that much interest was felt on the subject at Framley Court, where Lady Lufton lived with her son and her daughter-in-law.
“They tell me,” said Lady Lufton, “that both the archdeacon and Dr. Tempest think it right that a commission should be held. If so, I have no doubt that it is right.”
“Mark says that the bishop could hardly do anything else,” rejoined Mrs. Robarts.
“I daresay not, my dear. I suppose the bishop has somebody near him to tell him what he may do, and what he may not do. It would be terrible to think of, if it were not so. But yet, when I hear that he has named such men as Mr. Thumble and Mr. Quiverful, I cannot but feel that the whole diocese is disgraced.”
“Oh, Lady Lufton, that is such a strong word,” said Mrs. Robarts.
“It may be strong, but it is not the less true,” said Lady Lufton.
And from talking on the subject of the Crawleys, Lady Lufton soon advanced, first to a desire for some action, and then to acting. “I think, my dear, I will go over and see Mrs. Crawley,” said Lady Lufton the elder to Lady Lufton the younger. Lady Lufton the younger had nothing to urge against this; but she did not offer to accompany the elder lady. I attempted to explain in the early part of this story that there still existed a certain understanding between Mrs. Crawley and Lord Lufton’s wife, and that kindnesses occasionally passed from Framley Court to Hogglestock Parsonage; but on this occasion young Lady Lufton—the Lucy Robarts who had once passed certain days of her life with the Crawleys at Hogglestock—did not choose to accompany her mother-in-law; and therefore Mrs. Robarts was invited to do so. “I think it may comfort her to know that she has our sympathy,” the elder woman said
