The Last Chronicle of Barset [70]
the bishop, nothing on earth could be better.
'Your mother particularly wishes you to come over to us before the end of the week, and to bring Edith. Your grandfather will be here, and he is becoming so infirm that he will never come to us for another Christmas. Of course you will stay for the new year.'
Though the letter was full of Mr Crawley and his affairs there was not a word about Grace. This, however, was quite natural. Major Grantly perfectly well understood his father's anxiety to carry his point without seeming to allude to the disagreeable subject. 'My father is very clever,' he said to himself, 'very clever. But he isn't so clever but one can see how clever he is.'
On the next day he went into Silverbridge, intending to call on Miss Prettyman; nor was he called upon to do so, as he never got as far as that lady's house. While walking up the High Street he saw Mrs Thorne in her carriage, and, as a matter of course, he stopped to speak to her. He knew Mrs Thorne quite as intimately as he did her husband, and liked her quite as well. 'Major Grantly,' she said, speaking out loud to him, half across the street; 'I was very angry with you yesterday. Why did you not come up to dinner? We had a room ready for you and everything.'
'I was not quite well, Mrs Thorne.'
'Fiddlestick. Don't tell me of not being well. There was Emily breaking her heart about you.'
'I'm sure, Miss Dunstable--'
'To tell you the truth, I think she'll get over it. It won't be mortal with her. But do tell me, Major Grantly, what are we to think about this poor Mr Crawley? It was so good of you to be one of his bailsmen.'
'He would have found twenty in Silverbridge, if he had wanted them.'
'And do you hear that he has defied the bishop? I do so like him for that. Not but what poor Mrs Proudie is the dearest friend I have in the world, and I'm always fighting a battle with old Lady Lufton on her behalf. But one likes to see one's friends worsted sometimes.'
'I don't quite understand what did happen at Hogglestock on the Sunday,' said the major.
'Some say he had the bishop's chaplain put under the pump. I don't believe that; but there is no doubt that when the poor fellow tried to get into the pulpit, they took him and carried him neck and heels out of the church. But, tell me, Major Grantly, what is to become of the family?'
'Heaven knows!'
'Is it not sad? And that eldest girl is so nice! They tell me that she is perfect--not only in beauty, but in manners and accomplishments. Everybody says that she talks Greek just as well as she does English, and that she understands philosophy from the top to the bottom.'
'At any rate, she is so good and so lovely that one cannot but pity her.'
'You know her, Major Grantly? By-the-by, of course you do, as you were staying with her at Framley.'
'Yes, I know her.'
'What is to become of her? I'm going your way. You might as well get into the carriage, and I'll drive you home. If he is sent to prison--and they say he must be sent to prison--what is to become of them?' Then Major Grantly did get into the carriage, and, before he got out again, he had told Mrs Thorne the whole story of his love.
She listened to him with the closest attention; only interrupting him now and then with little words, intended to signify her approval. He, as he told his tale, did not look her in the face, but sat with his eyes fixed upon her muff. 'And now,' he said, glancing up at her almost for the first time as he finished his speech, 'and now, Mrs Thorne, what am I to do?'
'Marry her, of course,' said she, raising her hand aloft and bringing it down heavily upon is knee as she gave her decisive reply.
'H--sh--h,' he exclaimed, looking back in dismay towards the servants.
'Oh, they never hear anything up there. They're thinking about the last pot of porter they had, or the next they're to get. Deary me, I am so glad! Of course you'll marry her.'
'You forget my father.'
'No, I don't. What has a father to do with it? You're old enough to please yourself without
'Your mother particularly wishes you to come over to us before the end of the week, and to bring Edith. Your grandfather will be here, and he is becoming so infirm that he will never come to us for another Christmas. Of course you will stay for the new year.'
Though the letter was full of Mr Crawley and his affairs there was not a word about Grace. This, however, was quite natural. Major Grantly perfectly well understood his father's anxiety to carry his point without seeming to allude to the disagreeable subject. 'My father is very clever,' he said to himself, 'very clever. But he isn't so clever but one can see how clever he is.'
On the next day he went into Silverbridge, intending to call on Miss Prettyman; nor was he called upon to do so, as he never got as far as that lady's house. While walking up the High Street he saw Mrs Thorne in her carriage, and, as a matter of course, he stopped to speak to her. He knew Mrs Thorne quite as intimately as he did her husband, and liked her quite as well. 'Major Grantly,' she said, speaking out loud to him, half across the street; 'I was very angry with you yesterday. Why did you not come up to dinner? We had a room ready for you and everything.'
'I was not quite well, Mrs Thorne.'
'Fiddlestick. Don't tell me of not being well. There was Emily breaking her heart about you.'
'I'm sure, Miss Dunstable--'
'To tell you the truth, I think she'll get over it. It won't be mortal with her. But do tell me, Major Grantly, what are we to think about this poor Mr Crawley? It was so good of you to be one of his bailsmen.'
'He would have found twenty in Silverbridge, if he had wanted them.'
'And do you hear that he has defied the bishop? I do so like him for that. Not but what poor Mrs Proudie is the dearest friend I have in the world, and I'm always fighting a battle with old Lady Lufton on her behalf. But one likes to see one's friends worsted sometimes.'
'I don't quite understand what did happen at Hogglestock on the Sunday,' said the major.
'Some say he had the bishop's chaplain put under the pump. I don't believe that; but there is no doubt that when the poor fellow tried to get into the pulpit, they took him and carried him neck and heels out of the church. But, tell me, Major Grantly, what is to become of the family?'
'Heaven knows!'
'Is it not sad? And that eldest girl is so nice! They tell me that she is perfect--not only in beauty, but in manners and accomplishments. Everybody says that she talks Greek just as well as she does English, and that she understands philosophy from the top to the bottom.'
'At any rate, she is so good and so lovely that one cannot but pity her.'
'You know her, Major Grantly? By-the-by, of course you do, as you were staying with her at Framley.'
'Yes, I know her.'
'What is to become of her? I'm going your way. You might as well get into the carriage, and I'll drive you home. If he is sent to prison--and they say he must be sent to prison--what is to become of them?' Then Major Grantly did get into the carriage, and, before he got out again, he had told Mrs Thorne the whole story of his love.
She listened to him with the closest attention; only interrupting him now and then with little words, intended to signify her approval. He, as he told his tale, did not look her in the face, but sat with his eyes fixed upon her muff. 'And now,' he said, glancing up at her almost for the first time as he finished his speech, 'and now, Mrs Thorne, what am I to do?'
'Marry her, of course,' said she, raising her hand aloft and bringing it down heavily upon is knee as she gave her decisive reply.
'H--sh--h,' he exclaimed, looking back in dismay towards the servants.
'Oh, they never hear anything up there. They're thinking about the last pot of porter they had, or the next they're to get. Deary me, I am so glad! Of course you'll marry her.'
'You forget my father.'
'No, I don't. What has a father to do with it? You're old enough to please yourself without