The Last Chronicle of Barset [304]
of hypocrisy. Lady Lufton, who understood as well as any woman what it is to be 'tiled' with a friend, took all this in good part. The archdeacon had spoken out of his heart what was in his heart. One of his children had married a marquis. Another might probably become a bishop--perhaps an archbishop. The third might be a county squire--high among the county squires. But he could only so become by walking warily;--and now he was bent on marrying the penniless daughter of an impoverished half-mad country curate, who was about to be tried for stealing twenty pounds! Lady Lufton, in spite of all her arguments, could not refuse her sympathy to her old friend.
'After all, from what you say, I suppose they are not engaged.'
'I do not know,' said the archdeacon. 'I cannot tell!'
'And what do you wish me to do?'
'Oh--nothing. I came over, as I said before, because I thought he was here. I think it right, before he has absolutely committed himself, to take every means in my power to make him understand that I shall withdraw from him all pecuniary assistance--now and for the future.'
'My friend, that threat seems to me to be so terrible.'
'It is the only power I have left to me.'
'But you, who are so affectionate by nature, would never adhere to it.'
'I will try. I will try my best to be firm. I will at once put everything beyond my control after my death.' The archdeacon, as he uttered these terrible words--words which were awful to Lady Lufton's ears--resolved that he would endeavour to nurse his own wrath; but, at the same time, almost hated himself for his own pusillanimity, because he feared that his wrath would die away before he should have availed himself of its heat.
'I would do nothing rash of that kind,' said Lady Lufton. 'Your object is to prevent the marriage--not to punish him for it when once he has made it.'
'He is not to have his own way in everything, Lady Lufton.'
'But you should first try to prevent it.'
'What can I do to prevent it?'
Lady Lufton paused a couple of minutes before she replied. She had a scheme in her head, but it seemed to her to savour of cruelty. And yet at present it was her chief duty to assist her old friend, if any assistance could be given. There could hardly be a doubt that such a marriage as this, of which they were speaking, was in itself an evil. In her case, the case of her son, there had been no question of a trial, of money stolen, of aught that was in truth disgraceful. 'I think if I were you, Dr Grantly,' she said, 'that I would see the young lady while I was here.'
'See her myself?' said the archdeacon. The idea of seeing Grace Crawley himself had, up to this moment, never entered his head.
'I think I would do so.'
'I think I will,' said the archdeacon, after a pause. Then he got up from his chair. 'If I am to do it, I had better do it at once.'
'Be gentle with her, my friend.' The archdeacon paused again. He certainly had entertained the idea of encountering Miss Crawley with severity rather than gentleness. Lady Lufton rose from her seat, and coming up to him, took one of his hands between her own two. 'Be gentle to her,' she said. 'You have owned that she has done nothing wrong.' The archdeacon bowed his head in token of assent and left the room.
Poor Grace Crawley.
CHAPTER LVII
A DOUBLE PLEDGE
The archdeacon, as he walked across from the Court to the parsonage, was very thoughtful and his steps were very slow. The idea of seeing Miss Crawley herself had been suggested to him suddenly, and he had to determine how he could bear himself towards her, and what he would say to her. Lady Lufton had beseeched him to be gentle with her. Was the mission one in which gentleness would be possible? Must it not be his object to make this young lady understand that she could not be right in desiring to come into his family and share in all his good things when she had no good things of her own--nothing but evil things to bring with her? And how could this be properly explained to the young lady in gentle terms? Must
'After all, from what you say, I suppose they are not engaged.'
'I do not know,' said the archdeacon. 'I cannot tell!'
'And what do you wish me to do?'
'Oh--nothing. I came over, as I said before, because I thought he was here. I think it right, before he has absolutely committed himself, to take every means in my power to make him understand that I shall withdraw from him all pecuniary assistance--now and for the future.'
'My friend, that threat seems to me to be so terrible.'
'It is the only power I have left to me.'
'But you, who are so affectionate by nature, would never adhere to it.'
'I will try. I will try my best to be firm. I will at once put everything beyond my control after my death.' The archdeacon, as he uttered these terrible words--words which were awful to Lady Lufton's ears--resolved that he would endeavour to nurse his own wrath; but, at the same time, almost hated himself for his own pusillanimity, because he feared that his wrath would die away before he should have availed himself of its heat.
'I would do nothing rash of that kind,' said Lady Lufton. 'Your object is to prevent the marriage--not to punish him for it when once he has made it.'
'He is not to have his own way in everything, Lady Lufton.'
'But you should first try to prevent it.'
'What can I do to prevent it?'
Lady Lufton paused a couple of minutes before she replied. She had a scheme in her head, but it seemed to her to savour of cruelty. And yet at present it was her chief duty to assist her old friend, if any assistance could be given. There could hardly be a doubt that such a marriage as this, of which they were speaking, was in itself an evil. In her case, the case of her son, there had been no question of a trial, of money stolen, of aught that was in truth disgraceful. 'I think if I were you, Dr Grantly,' she said, 'that I would see the young lady while I was here.'
'See her myself?' said the archdeacon. The idea of seeing Grace Crawley himself had, up to this moment, never entered his head.
'I think I would do so.'
'I think I will,' said the archdeacon, after a pause. Then he got up from his chair. 'If I am to do it, I had better do it at once.'
'Be gentle with her, my friend.' The archdeacon paused again. He certainly had entertained the idea of encountering Miss Crawley with severity rather than gentleness. Lady Lufton rose from her seat, and coming up to him, took one of his hands between her own two. 'Be gentle to her,' she said. 'You have owned that she has done nothing wrong.' The archdeacon bowed his head in token of assent and left the room.
Poor Grace Crawley.
CHAPTER LVII
A DOUBLE PLEDGE
The archdeacon, as he walked across from the Court to the parsonage, was very thoughtful and his steps were very slow. The idea of seeing Miss Crawley herself had been suggested to him suddenly, and he had to determine how he could bear himself towards her, and what he would say to her. Lady Lufton had beseeched him to be gentle with her. Was the mission one in which gentleness would be possible? Must it not be his object to make this young lady understand that she could not be right in desiring to come into his family and share in all his good things when she had no good things of her own--nothing but evil things to bring with her? And how could this be properly explained to the young lady in gentle terms? Must