Barchester Towers [197]
has done--just for a minute, Mr Stanhope--till I can get another chair.'
And so Bertie had to rise to make way for his rival. This he did, as he did everything, with an air of good-humoured pleasantry, which made it impossible for Mr Arabin to refuse the proffered seat.
'His bishopric let another take,' said Bertie; the quotation being certainly not very appropriate, either for the occasion, or the person spoken to. 'I have eaten and am satisfied; Mr Arabin, pray take my chair. I wish for your sake, it really was a bishop's seat.'
Mr Arabin did sit down, and as he did so, Mrs Bold got up as though to follow her neighbour.
'Pray, pray don't move,' said Miss Thorne, almost forcing Eleanor back into her chair. 'Mr Stanhope is not going to leave us. He will stand behind you like a true knight as he is. And now I think of it, Mr Arabin, let me introduce you to Mr Slope. Mr Slope, Mr Arabin.' And the two gentlemen bowed stiffly to each other across the lady they both intended to marry, while the other gentleman who also intended to marry her stood behind, watching them.
The two had never met each other before, and the present was certainly not a good opportunity for much cordial conversation, even if cordial conversation between them had been possible. As it was, the whole four who formed the party seemed as though their tongues were tied. Mr Slope, who was wide awake to what he hoped was his coming opportunity, was not much concerned in the interest of the moment. His wish was to see Eleanor move, that he might pursue her. Bertie was not exactly in the same frame of mind; the evil of the day was near enough; there was no reason why he should precipitate it. He had made up his mind to marry Eleanor Bold if he could, and was resolved to-day to take the first preliminary step towards doing so. But there was time enough before him. He was not going to make an offer of marriage over the table-cloth. Having thus good-naturedly made way for Mr Arabin, he was willing also to let him talk to the future Mrs Stanhope as long as they remained in their present position.
Mr Arabin bowed to Mr Slope, began eating his food, without saying a word further. He was full of thoughts, and though he ate he did so unconsciously.
But poor Eleanor was the most to be pitied. The only friend on whom she thought she could rely, was Bertie Stanhope, and he, it seemed, was determined to desert her. Mr Arabin did not attempt to address her. She said a few words in reply to some remarks from Mr Slope, and then feeling the situation too much for her, started from her chair in spite of Miss Thorne, and hurried from the room. Mr Slope followed her, and young Stanhope lost the occasion.
Madame Neroni, when she was left alone, could not help pondering much on the singular interview she had had with this singular man. Not a word that she had spoken to him had been intended by her to be received as true, and yet he had answered her in the very spirit of truth. He had done so, and she had been aware that he had done so. She had wormed from him his secret; and he, debarred as it would seem from man's usual privilege of lying, had innocently laid bare his whole soul to her. He loved Eleanor Bold, but Eleanor was not in his eyes so beautiful as herself. He would fain have Eleanor for his wife, but yet he had acknowledged that she was the less gifted of the two. The man had literally been unable to falsify his thoughts when questioned, and had been compelled to be true malgre lui, even when truth must have been disagreeable to him.
This teacher of men, this Oxford pundit, this double-distilled quintessence of university perfection, this writer of religious treatises, this speaker of ecclesiastical speeches, had been like a little child in her hands; she had turned him inside out, and read his very heart as she might have done that of a young girl. She could not but despise him for his facile openness, and yet she liked him too. It was a novelty to her, a new trait in a man's character. She felt also that she could never so completely make a fool
And so Bertie had to rise to make way for his rival. This he did, as he did everything, with an air of good-humoured pleasantry, which made it impossible for Mr Arabin to refuse the proffered seat.
'His bishopric let another take,' said Bertie; the quotation being certainly not very appropriate, either for the occasion, or the person spoken to. 'I have eaten and am satisfied; Mr Arabin, pray take my chair. I wish for your sake, it really was a bishop's seat.'
Mr Arabin did sit down, and as he did so, Mrs Bold got up as though to follow her neighbour.
'Pray, pray don't move,' said Miss Thorne, almost forcing Eleanor back into her chair. 'Mr Stanhope is not going to leave us. He will stand behind you like a true knight as he is. And now I think of it, Mr Arabin, let me introduce you to Mr Slope. Mr Slope, Mr Arabin.' And the two gentlemen bowed stiffly to each other across the lady they both intended to marry, while the other gentleman who also intended to marry her stood behind, watching them.
The two had never met each other before, and the present was certainly not a good opportunity for much cordial conversation, even if cordial conversation between them had been possible. As it was, the whole four who formed the party seemed as though their tongues were tied. Mr Slope, who was wide awake to what he hoped was his coming opportunity, was not much concerned in the interest of the moment. His wish was to see Eleanor move, that he might pursue her. Bertie was not exactly in the same frame of mind; the evil of the day was near enough; there was no reason why he should precipitate it. He had made up his mind to marry Eleanor Bold if he could, and was resolved to-day to take the first preliminary step towards doing so. But there was time enough before him. He was not going to make an offer of marriage over the table-cloth. Having thus good-naturedly made way for Mr Arabin, he was willing also to let him talk to the future Mrs Stanhope as long as they remained in their present position.
Mr Arabin bowed to Mr Slope, began eating his food, without saying a word further. He was full of thoughts, and though he ate he did so unconsciously.
But poor Eleanor was the most to be pitied. The only friend on whom she thought she could rely, was Bertie Stanhope, and he, it seemed, was determined to desert her. Mr Arabin did not attempt to address her. She said a few words in reply to some remarks from Mr Slope, and then feeling the situation too much for her, started from her chair in spite of Miss Thorne, and hurried from the room. Mr Slope followed her, and young Stanhope lost the occasion.
Madame Neroni, when she was left alone, could not help pondering much on the singular interview she had had with this singular man. Not a word that she had spoken to him had been intended by her to be received as true, and yet he had answered her in the very spirit of truth. He had done so, and she had been aware that he had done so. She had wormed from him his secret; and he, debarred as it would seem from man's usual privilege of lying, had innocently laid bare his whole soul to her. He loved Eleanor Bold, but Eleanor was not in his eyes so beautiful as herself. He would fain have Eleanor for his wife, but yet he had acknowledged that she was the less gifted of the two. The man had literally been unable to falsify his thoughts when questioned, and had been compelled to be true malgre lui, even when truth must have been disagreeable to him.
This teacher of men, this Oxford pundit, this double-distilled quintessence of university perfection, this writer of religious treatises, this speaker of ecclesiastical speeches, had been like a little child in her hands; she had turned him inside out, and read his very heart as she might have done that of a young girl. She could not but despise him for his facile openness, and yet she liked him too. It was a novelty to her, a new trait in a man's character. She felt also that she could never so completely make a fool