Mrs. Arabin remained in town one day, and would have remained longer, waiting for her husband, had not a letter from her sister impressed upon her that it might be as well that she should be with their father as soon as possible. “I don’t mean to make you think that there is any immediate danger,” Mrs. Grantly said, “and, indeed, we cannot say that he is ill; but it seems that the extremity of old age has come upon him almost suddenly, and that he is as weak as a child. His only delight is with the children, especially with Posy, whose gravity in her management of him is wonderful. He has not left his room now for more than a week, and he eats very little. It may be that he will live yet for years; but I should be deceiving you if I did not let you know that both the archdeacon and I think that the time of his departure from us is near at hand.” After reading this letter, Mrs. Arabin could not wait in town for her husband, even though he was expected in two days, and though she had been told that her presence at Barchester was not immediately required on behalf of Mr. Crawley.
But during that one day she kept her promise to John Eames by going to Lily Dale. Mrs. Arabin had become very fond of Johnny, and felt that he deserved the prize which he had been so long trying to win. The reader, perhaps, may not agree with Mrs. Arabin. The reader, who may have caught a closer insight into Johnny’s character than Mrs. Arabin had obtained, may, perhaps, think that a young man who could amuse himself with Miss Demolines was unworthy of Lily Dale. If so, I may declare for myself that I and the reader are not in accord about John Eames. It is hard to measure worth and worthlessness in such matters, as there is no standard for such measurement. My old friend John was certainly no hero—was very unheroic in many phases of his life; but then, if all the girls are to wait for heroes, I fear that the difficulties in the way of matrimonial arrangements, great as they are at present, will be very seriously enhanced. Johnny was not ecstatic, nor heroic, nor transcendental, nor very beautiful in his manliness; he was not a man to break his heart for love, or to have his story written in an epic; but he was an affectionate, kindly, honest young man; and I think most girls might have done worse than take him. Whether he was wise to ask assistance in his lovemaking so often as he had done, that may be another question.
Mrs. Arabin was intimately acquainted with Mrs. Thorne, and therefore there was nothing odd in her going to Mrs. Thorne’s house. Mrs. Thorne was very glad to see her, and told her all the Barsetshire news—much more than Mrs. Arabin would have learned in a week at the deanery; for Mrs. Thorne had a marvellous gift of picking up news. She had already heard the whole story of Mr. Soames’s cheque, and expressed her conviction that the least that could be done in amends to Mr. Crawley was to make him a bishop. “And you see the palace is vacant,” said Mrs. Thorne.
“The palace vacant!” said Mrs. Arabin.
“It is just as good. Now that Mrs. Proudie has gone I don’t suppose the poor bishop will count for much. I can assure you, Mrs. Arabin, I felt that poor woman’s death so much! She used to regard me as one of the staunchest of the Proudieites! She once whispered to me such a delightfully wicked story about the dean and the archdeacon. When I told her that they were my particular friends, she put on a look of horror. But I don’t think she believed me.” Then Emily Dunstable entered the room, and with her came Lily Dale. Mrs. Arabin had never before seen Lily, and of course they were introduced. “I am sorry to say Miss Dale is going home to Allington tomorrow,” said Emily. “But she is coming to Chaldicotes in May,” said Mrs. Thorne. “Of course, Mrs. Arabin, you know what gala doings we are going to have in May?” Then there were various civil little speeches made on each side, and Mrs. Arabin expressed a wish that she might meet Miss Dale again in Barsetshire. But all this did not bring her at all nearer to her object.
“I particularly wish to say a word to Miss Dale—here today, if she will allow me,” said Mrs. Arabin.
“I’m sure she will—twenty words; won’t you, Lily?” said Mrs. Thorne, preparing to leave the room. Then Mrs. Arabin apologized, and Mrs. Thorne, bustling up, said that it did not signify, and Lily, remaining quite still on the sofa, wondered what it was all about—and in two minutes Lily and Mrs. Arabin were alone together. Lily had just time to surmise that Mrs. Arabin’s visit must have some reference to Mr. Crosbie—remembering that Crosbie had married his wife out of
