The Last Chronicle of Barset [67]
as he handed the letter to Mr Thumble. 'If you will give that to his lordship with an assurance of my duty to his lordship in all things proper, I will thank you kindly, craving your pardon for the great delay to which you have been subjected.'
'As to the delay, it is nothing,' said Mr Thumble.
'It has been much; but you as a clergyman will feel that it has been incumbent upon me to speak my mind fully.'
'Oh, yes; of course.' Mr Crawley was standing up, as also was Mrs Crawley. It was evident to Mr Thumble that they both expected that he should go. But he had been especially enjoined to be firm, and he doubted whether hitherto he had been firm enough. As far as this morning's work had as yet gone, it seemed to him that Mr Crawley had had the play to himself, and that he, Mr Thumble, had not had his innings. He, from the palace, had been, as it were, cowed by this man, who had been forced to plead his own poverty. It was certainly incumbent upon him, before he went, to speak up, not only for the bishop, but for himself also. 'Mr Crawley,' he said, 'hitherto I have listened to you patiently.'
'Nay,' said Mr Crawley, smiling, 'you have indeed been patient, and I thank you; but my words have been written, not spoken.'
'You have told me that you intend to disobey the bishop's inhibition.'
'I have told the bishop so, certainly.'
'May I ask you now to listen to me for a few minutes?'
Mr Crawley, still smiling, still having in his eyes the unwonted triumph which had lighted them up, paused a moment, and then answered him. 'Reverend sir, you must excuse me if I say no--not on this subject.'
'You will not let me speak?'
'No; not on this matter, which is very private to me. What should you think if I went into your house and inquired of you as to those things which were particularly near to you?'
'But the bishop sent me.'
'Though ten bishops sent me--a council of archbishops if you will!' Mr Thumble started back, appalled by the energy of the words used to him. 'Shall a man have nothing of his own;--no sorrow in his heart, no care in his family, no thought in his breast so private and special to him, but that, if he happen to be a clergyman, the bishop may touch it with his thumb?'
'I am not the bishop's thumb,' said Mr Thumble, drawing himself up.
'I intended not to hint anything personally objectionable to yourself. I will regard you as one of the angels of the church.' Mr Thumble, when he heard this, began to be sure that Mr Crawley was mad; he knew of no angels that could ride about the Barsetshire lanes on grey ponies. 'And as much as I respect you; but I cannot discuss with you the matter of the bishop's message.'
'Oh, very well. I will tell his lordship.'
'I will pray you to do so.'
'And his lordship, should he so decide, will arm me with such power on my next coming as will enable me to carry out his lordship's wishes.'
'His lordship will abide by the law, as will you also.' In speaking these last words he stood with the door in his hand, and Mr Thumble, not knowing how to increase or even maintain his firmness, thought it best to pass out, and mount his grey pony and ride away.
'The poor man thought that you were laughing at him when you called him an angel of the church,' said Mrs Crawley, coming up to him and smiling on him.
'Had I told him he was simply a messenger, he would have taken it worse;--poor fool! When they have rid themselves of me they may put him here, in my church; but not yet--not yet. Where is Jane? Tell her that I am ready to commence the Seven against Thebes with her.' Then Jane was immediately sent for out of the school, and the Seven against Thebes was commenced with great energy. Often during the next hour and a half Mrs Crawley from the kitchen would hear him reading out, or rather saying by rote, with sonorous rolling voice, great passages from some chorus, and she was very thankful to the bishop, who had sent over to them a message and messenger which had been so salutary in their effect upon her husband. 'In truth an angel of the church,'
'As to the delay, it is nothing,' said Mr Thumble.
'It has been much; but you as a clergyman will feel that it has been incumbent upon me to speak my mind fully.'
'Oh, yes; of course.' Mr Crawley was standing up, as also was Mrs Crawley. It was evident to Mr Thumble that they both expected that he should go. But he had been especially enjoined to be firm, and he doubted whether hitherto he had been firm enough. As far as this morning's work had as yet gone, it seemed to him that Mr Crawley had had the play to himself, and that he, Mr Thumble, had not had his innings. He, from the palace, had been, as it were, cowed by this man, who had been forced to plead his own poverty. It was certainly incumbent upon him, before he went, to speak up, not only for the bishop, but for himself also. 'Mr Crawley,' he said, 'hitherto I have listened to you patiently.'
'Nay,' said Mr Crawley, smiling, 'you have indeed been patient, and I thank you; but my words have been written, not spoken.'
'You have told me that you intend to disobey the bishop's inhibition.'
'I have told the bishop so, certainly.'
'May I ask you now to listen to me for a few minutes?'
Mr Crawley, still smiling, still having in his eyes the unwonted triumph which had lighted them up, paused a moment, and then answered him. 'Reverend sir, you must excuse me if I say no--not on this subject.'
'You will not let me speak?'
'No; not on this matter, which is very private to me. What should you think if I went into your house and inquired of you as to those things which were particularly near to you?'
'But the bishop sent me.'
'Though ten bishops sent me--a council of archbishops if you will!' Mr Thumble started back, appalled by the energy of the words used to him. 'Shall a man have nothing of his own;--no sorrow in his heart, no care in his family, no thought in his breast so private and special to him, but that, if he happen to be a clergyman, the bishop may touch it with his thumb?'
'I am not the bishop's thumb,' said Mr Thumble, drawing himself up.
'I intended not to hint anything personally objectionable to yourself. I will regard you as one of the angels of the church.' Mr Thumble, when he heard this, began to be sure that Mr Crawley was mad; he knew of no angels that could ride about the Barsetshire lanes on grey ponies. 'And as much as I respect you; but I cannot discuss with you the matter of the bishop's message.'
'Oh, very well. I will tell his lordship.'
'I will pray you to do so.'
'And his lordship, should he so decide, will arm me with such power on my next coming as will enable me to carry out his lordship's wishes.'
'His lordship will abide by the law, as will you also.' In speaking these last words he stood with the door in his hand, and Mr Thumble, not knowing how to increase or even maintain his firmness, thought it best to pass out, and mount his grey pony and ride away.
'The poor man thought that you were laughing at him when you called him an angel of the church,' said Mrs Crawley, coming up to him and smiling on him.
'Had I told him he was simply a messenger, he would have taken it worse;--poor fool! When they have rid themselves of me they may put him here, in my church; but not yet--not yet. Where is Jane? Tell her that I am ready to commence the Seven against Thebes with her.' Then Jane was immediately sent for out of the school, and the Seven against Thebes was commenced with great energy. Often during the next hour and a half Mrs Crawley from the kitchen would hear him reading out, or rather saying by rote, with sonorous rolling voice, great passages from some chorus, and she was very thankful to the bishop, who had sent over to them a message and messenger which had been so salutary in their effect upon her husband. 'In truth an angel of the church,'