“I don’t suppose that there is much doubt about her real character,” said Robarts. “But you and I need not discuss that.”
“By no means. Such discussion would be both useless and unseemly.”
“And just at present there is something else that I specially want to say to you. Indeed, I went to Silverbridge on the same subject yesterday, and have come here expressly to have a little conversation with you.”
“If it be about affairs of mine, Mr. Robarts, I am indeed troubled in spirit that so great labour should have fallen upon you.”
“Never mind my labour. Indeed your saying that is a nuisance to me, because I hoped that by this time you would have understood that I regard you as a friend, and that I think nothing any trouble that I do for a friend. Your position just now is so peculiar that it requires a great deal of care.”
“No care can be of any avail to me.”
“There I disagree with you. You must excuse me, but I do; and so does Dr. Tempest. We think that you have been a little too much in a hurry since he communicated to you the result of our first meeting.”
“As how, sir?”
“It is, perhaps, hardly worth while for us to go into the whole question; but that man, Thumble, must not come here on next Sunday.”
“I cannot say, Mr. Robarts, that the Reverend Mr. Thumble has recommended himself to me strongly either by his outward symbols of manhood or by such manifestation of his inward mental gifts as I have succeeded in obtaining. But my knowledge of him has been so slight, and has been acquired in a manner so likely to bias me prejudicially against him, that I am inclined to think my opinion should go for nothing. It is, however, the fact that the bishop has nominated him to this duty; and that, as I have myself simply notified my desire to be relieved from the care of the parish, on account of certain unfitness of my own, I am the last man who should interfere with the bishop in the choice of my temporary successor.”
“It was her choice, not his.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Robarts, but I cannot allow that assertion to pass unquestioned. I must say that I have adequate cause for believing that he came here by his lordship’s authority.”
“No doubt he did. Will you just listen to me for a moment? Ever since this unfortunate affair of the cheque became known, Mrs. Proudie has been anxious to get you out of this parish. She was a violent woman, and chose to take this matter up violently. Pray hear me out before you interrupt me. There would have been no commission at all but for her.”
“The commission is right and proper and just,” said Mr. Crawley, who could not keep himself silent.
“Very well. Let it be so. But Mr. Thumble’s coming over here is not proper or right; and you may be sure the bishop does not wish it.”
“Let him send any other clergyman whom he may think more fitting,” said Mr. Crawley.
“But we do not want him to send anybody.”
“Somebody must be sent, Mr. Robarts.”
“No, not so. Let me go over and see Thumble and Snapper—Snapper, you know, is the domestic chaplain; and all that you need do is to go on with your services on Sunday. If necessary, I will see the bishop. I think you may be sure that I can manage it. If not, I will come back to you.” Mr. Robarts paused for an answer, but it seemed for awhile that all Mr. Crawley’s impatient desire to speak was over. He walked on silently along the lane by his visitor’s side, and when, after some five or six minutes, Robarts stood still in the road, Mr. Crawley even then said nothing. “It cannot be but that you should be anxious to keep the income of the parish for your wife and children,” said Mark Robarts.
“Of course, I am anxious for my wife and children,” Crawley answered.
“Then let me do as I say. Why should you throw away a chance, even if it be a bad one? But here the chance is all in your favour. Let me manage it for you at Barchester.”
“Of course I am anxious for my wife and children,” said Crawley, repeating his words; “how anxious, I fancy no man can conceive who has not been near enough to absolute want to know how terrible is its approach when it threatens those who are weak and who are very dear! But, Mr. Robarts, you spoke just now of the chance of the thing—the chance of your arranging on my behalf that I should for a while longer be left in the enjoyment of the freehold of my parish. It seemeth to me that there should be no chance on such a subject; that in the adjustment of so momentous a matter there should be a consideration of right and wrong, and no consideration of aught beside. I have been growing to feel, for some weeks past, that circumstances—whether through my own fault or not is an outside question as to which I will not further delay you by offering even an opinion—that unfortunate circumstances have made me unfit to remain here as guardian of the souls of the people of this parish. Then there came to me the letter from Dr. Tempest—for which I am greatly beholden to him—strengthening me altogether in this view. What could I do then, Mr. Robarts? Could I allow myself to think of my wife and my children when such a question as that was before me for self-discussion?”
“I would—certainly,” said Robarts.
“No, sir! Excuse the bluntness of my contradiction, but I feel assured that in such emergency you would look solely to
