Barchester Towers [246]
remarks about the beauty of the weather, while he plucked up courage for the more interesting converse. It cannot probably be said that he had resolved then and there to make an offer to Eleanor. Men we believe seldom make such resolve. Mr Slope and Mr Stanhope had done so, it is true; but gentlemen generally propose without any absolutely defined determination as to their doing so. Such was now the case with Mr Arabin.
'It is a lovely sunset,' said Eleanor, answering him on the dreadfully trite subject which he had chosen.
Mr Arabin could not see the sunset from the hearth-rug, as he had to go close to her.
'Very lovely,' said he, standing modestly so far away from her s to avoid touching the flounces of her dress. Then it appeared that he had nothing further to say; so after gazing for a moment in silence at the brightness of the setting sun, he returned to the fire.
Eleanor found that it was quite impossible for herself to commence a conversation. In the first place she could find nothing to say; words, which were generally plenty enough with her, would not come to her relief. And, moreover, do what she could, she could hardly prevent herself from crying.
'Do you like Ullathorne?' said Mr Arabin, speaking from the safely distant position which he had assumed on the hearth-rug.
'Yes, indeed, very much!'
'I don't mean Mr and Miss Thorne. I know you like them; but the style of the house. There is something about old-fashioned mansions, built as this is, and old-fashioned gardens, that to me is especially delightful.'
'I like everything old-fashioned,' said Eleanor; 'old-fashioned things are so much the honestest.'
'I don't know about that,' said Mr Arabin, gently laughing. 'That is an opinion on which very much may be said on either side. It is strange how widely the world is divided on a subject which so nearly concerns us all, and which is so close beneath our eyes. Some think that we are quickly progressing towards perfection, while others imagine that virtue is disappearing from the earth.'
'And you, Mr Arabin, what do you think?' said Eleanor. She felt somewhat surprised at the tone which this conversation was taking, and yet she was quite relieved at his saying something which enabled herself to speak without showing any emotion.
'What do I think, Mrs Bold?' and then he rumbled his money with his hand in his trousers pockets, and looked and spoke very little like a thriving lover. 'It is the bane of my life that on important subjects I acquire no fixed opinion. I think, and think, and go on thinking; and yet my thoughts are running over in different directions. I hardly know whether or no we do lead more confidently than our fathers did on those high hopes to which we profess to aspire.'
'I think the world grows more worldly every day,' said Eleanor.
'That is because you see more of it than when you were younger. But we should hardly judge by what we see,--we see so very very little.' There was then a pause for a while, during which Mr Arabin continued to turn over his shillings and half-crowns. 'If we believe in Scripture, we can hardly think that mankind in general
will now be allowed to retrograde.'
Eleanor, whose mind was certainly engaged otherwise than on the general state of mankind, made no answer to this. She felt thoroughly dissatisfied with herself. She could not force her thoughts away from the topic on which the signora had spoken to her in so strange a way, and yet she knew that she could not converse with Mr Arabin in an unrestrained natural tone till she did so. She was most anxious not to show to him any special emotion, and yet she felt that if he looked at her he would at once see that she was not at ease.
But he did not look at her. Instead of doing so, he left the fire-place and began walking up and down the room. Eleanor took up her book resolutely; but she could not read, for there was a tear in her eye, and do what she would it fell on her cheek. When Mr Arabin's back was turned to her she wiped it away; but another was soon coming down her face
'It is a lovely sunset,' said Eleanor, answering him on the dreadfully trite subject which he had chosen.
Mr Arabin could not see the sunset from the hearth-rug, as he had to go close to her.
'Very lovely,' said he, standing modestly so far away from her s to avoid touching the flounces of her dress. Then it appeared that he had nothing further to say; so after gazing for a moment in silence at the brightness of the setting sun, he returned to the fire.
Eleanor found that it was quite impossible for herself to commence a conversation. In the first place she could find nothing to say; words, which were generally plenty enough with her, would not come to her relief. And, moreover, do what she could, she could hardly prevent herself from crying.
'Do you like Ullathorne?' said Mr Arabin, speaking from the safely distant position which he had assumed on the hearth-rug.
'Yes, indeed, very much!'
'I don't mean Mr and Miss Thorne. I know you like them; but the style of the house. There is something about old-fashioned mansions, built as this is, and old-fashioned gardens, that to me is especially delightful.'
'I like everything old-fashioned,' said Eleanor; 'old-fashioned things are so much the honestest.'
'I don't know about that,' said Mr Arabin, gently laughing. 'That is an opinion on which very much may be said on either side. It is strange how widely the world is divided on a subject which so nearly concerns us all, and which is so close beneath our eyes. Some think that we are quickly progressing towards perfection, while others imagine that virtue is disappearing from the earth.'
'And you, Mr Arabin, what do you think?' said Eleanor. She felt somewhat surprised at the tone which this conversation was taking, and yet she was quite relieved at his saying something which enabled herself to speak without showing any emotion.
'What do I think, Mrs Bold?' and then he rumbled his money with his hand in his trousers pockets, and looked and spoke very little like a thriving lover. 'It is the bane of my life that on important subjects I acquire no fixed opinion. I think, and think, and go on thinking; and yet my thoughts are running over in different directions. I hardly know whether or no we do lead more confidently than our fathers did on those high hopes to which we profess to aspire.'
'I think the world grows more worldly every day,' said Eleanor.
'That is because you see more of it than when you were younger. But we should hardly judge by what we see,--we see so very very little.' There was then a pause for a while, during which Mr Arabin continued to turn over his shillings and half-crowns. 'If we believe in Scripture, we can hardly think that mankind in general
will now be allowed to retrograde.'
Eleanor, whose mind was certainly engaged otherwise than on the general state of mankind, made no answer to this. She felt thoroughly dissatisfied with herself. She could not force her thoughts away from the topic on which the signora had spoken to her in so strange a way, and yet she knew that she could not converse with Mr Arabin in an unrestrained natural tone till she did so. She was most anxious not to show to him any special emotion, and yet she felt that if he looked at her he would at once see that she was not at ease.
But he did not look at her. Instead of doing so, he left the fire-place and began walking up and down the room. Eleanor took up her book resolutely; but she could not read, for there was a tear in her eye, and do what she would it fell on her cheek. When Mr Arabin's back was turned to her she wiped it away; but another was soon coming down her face