THE WIDOW'S PERSECUTION
Early on the following morning, Mr Slope was summoned to the
bishop's dressing-room, and went there fully expecting that he
should find his lordship very indignant, and spirited up by his
wife to repeat the rebuke which she had administered on the
previous day. Mr Slope had resolved that at any rate from him he
would not stand it, and entered the dressing-room in rather a
combative disposition; but he found the bishop in the most placid
and gentle of humours. His lordship complained of being rather
unwell, had a slight headache, and was not quite the thing in his
stomach; but there was nothing the matter with his temper.
'Oh, Slope,' said he, taking the chaplain's proffered hand.
'Archdeacon Grantly is to call on me this morning, and I really am
not fit to see him. I fear I must trouble you to see him for me;'
and then Dr Proudie proceeded to explain what it was that must be
said to Dr Grantly. He was to be told in fact in the civilest words
in which the tidings could be conveyed, that Mr Harding having
refused the wardenship, the appointment had been offered to Mr
Quiverful and accepted by him.
Mr Slope again pointed out to his patron that he thought he was
perhaps not quite wise in his decision, and this he did sotto voce.
But even with this precaution it was not safe to say much, and
during the little that he did say, the bishop made a very slight,
but still a very ominous gesture with his thumb towards the door
which opened from his dressing-room to some inner sanctuary. Mr
Slope at once took the hint and said no more; but he perceived that
there was to be confidence between him and his patron, that the
league desired by him was to be made, and that this appointment of
Mr Quiverful was to be the sacrifice offered on the altar of
conjugal obedience. All this Mr Slope read in the slight motion of
the bishop's thumb, and he read it correctly. There was no need of
parchments and seals, of attestations, explanations, and
professions. The bargain was understood between them, and Mr Slope
gave the bishop his hand upon it. The bishop understood the little
extra squeeze, and an intelligible gleam of assent twinkled in his
eye.
'Pray be civil to the archdeacon, Mr Slope,' said he out loud; 'but
make him quite understand that in this matter Mr Harding has put it
out of my power to oblige him.'
It would be calumny on Mrs Proudie to suggest that she was sitting
in her bed-room with her ear at the keyhole during this interview.
She had within her a spirit of decorum which prevented her from
descending to such baseness. To put her ear to a key-hole or to
listen at a chink, was a trick for a housemaid.
Mrs Proudie knew this, and therefore she did not do it; but she
stationed herself as near to the door as she well could, that she
might, if possible, get the advantage which the housemaid would
have had, without descending to the housemaid's artifice.
It was little, however, that she heard, and that little was only
sufficient to deceive her. She saw nothing of that friendly
pressure, perceived nothing of that concluded bargain; she did not
even dream of the treacherous resolves which those two false men
had made together to upset her in the pride of her station, to dash
the cup from her lip before she had drank of it, to seep away all
her power before she had tasted its sweets! Traitors that they
were; the husband of her bosom, and the outcast whom she had
fostered and brought into the warmth of the world's brightest
fireside! But neither of them had the magnanimity of this woman.
Though two men have thus leagued themselves together against her,
even yet the battle is not lost.
Mr Slope felt pretty sure that Dr Grantly would decline the honour
of seeing him, and such turned out to be the case. The archdeacon,
when the palace door was opened to him, was greeted by a note. Mr
Slope presented his compliments &c, &c. The bishop was ill in his
room, and very greatly regretted, &c &c. Mr Slope had been charged
with the bishop's views, and if agreeable to the archdeacon, would
do himself the honour &c, &c. The archdeacon, however, was not
agreeable, and having read his note in the hall, crumpled it up in
his hand, and muttering something about sorrow for his lordship's
illness, took his leave, without sending as much as a verbal
message in answer to Mr Slope's note.
'Ill!' said the archdeacon to himself as he flung himself into his
brougham. 'The man is absolutely a coward. He is afraid to see me.
Ill, indeed!' The archdeacon was never ill himself, and did not
therefore understand that any one else could in truth be prevented
by illness from keeping an appointment. He regarded all such
excuses as subterfuges, and in the present instance he was not far
wrong.
Dr Grantly desired to be driven to his father-in-law's lodgings in
the High Street, and hearing from the servant that Mr Harding was
at his daughter's, followed him to Mrs Bold's house, and there he
found him. The archdeacon was fuming with rage when he got into the
drawing-room, and had by this time nearly forgotten the
pusillanimity of the bishop in the villainy of the chaplain.
'Look at that,' said he, throwing Mr Slope's crumpled note to Mr
Harding. 'I am to be told that if I choose I may have the honour of
seeing Mr Slope, and that too, after a positive engagement with the
bishop.'
'But he says the bishop is ill,' said Mr Harding.
'Pshaw! You don't mean to say that you are deceived by such an
excuse as that. He was well enough yesterday. Now I tell you what,
I will see the bishop; and I will tell him also very plainly what I
think of his conduct. I will see him, or else Barchester will soon
be too hot to hold him.'
Eleanor was sitting in the room, but Dr Grantly had hardly noticed
her in his anger. Eleanor now said to him, with the greatest
innocence, 'I wish you had seen Mr Slope, Dr Grantly, because I
think perhaps it might have done good.'
The archdeacon turned on her with almost brutal wrath. Had she at
once owned that she had accepted Mr Slope for her second husband,
he could hardly have felt more convinced of her belonging body and
soul to the Slope and Proudie party than he now did on hearing her
express such a wish as this. Poor Eleanor!
'See him,' said the archdeacon, glaring at her; 'and why am I be
called on to lower myself in the world's esteem an my own by coming
in contact with such a man as that? I have hitherto lived among
gentlemen, and do not mean to be dragged into other company by
anybody.'
Poor Mr Harding knew well what the archdeacon meant, but Eleanor
was as innocent as her own baby. She could not understand how the
archdeacon could consider himself to be dragged into bad company by
condescending to speak to Mr Slope for a few minutes when the
interests of her father might be served by doing so.
'I was talking for a full hour yesterday with Mr Slope,' said she,
with some little assumption of dignity, 'and I did not find myself
to be lowered by it.'
'Perhaps not,' said he. 'But if you'll be good enough to allow me,
I shall judge for myself in such matters. And I tell you what,
Eleanor; it will be much better for you if you will allow yourself
to be guided also by the advice of those who are your friends. If
you do not you will be apt to find you have no friends left who can
advise you.'
Eleanor blushed up to the roots of her hair. But even now she had
not the slightest idea of what was passing in the archdeacon's
mind. No thought of love-making or love-receiving had yet found its
way to her heart since the death of poor John Bold; and if it were
possible that such a thought should spring there, the man must be
far different from Mr Slope that could give it birth.
Nevertheless Eleanor blushed deeply, for she felt she was charged
with improper conduct, and she did so with the more inward pain
because her father did not instantly rally to her side; that father
for whose sake and love she had submitted to be the receptacle of
Mr Slope's confidence. She had given a detailed account of all that
had passed to her father; and though he had not absolutely agreed
with her about Mr Slope's views touching the hospital, yet he had
said nothing to make her think that she had been wrong in talking
to him.
She was far too angry to humble herself before her brother- in-law.
Indeed, she had never accustomed herself to be very abject before
him, and they had never been confidential allies. 'I do not in the
least understand what you mean, Dr Grantly,' said she. 'I do not
know that I can accuse myself of doing anything that my friends
should disapprove. Mr Slope called here expressly to ask what
papa's views were about the hospital; and as I believe he called
with friendly intentions I told him.'
'Friendly intentions!' sneered the archdeacon.
'I believe you greatly wrong Mr Slope,' continued Eleanor; 'but I
have explained this to papa already; and as you do not seem to
approve of what I say, Dr Grantly, I will with your permission
leave you and papa together,' and so saying she walked out of the
room.
All this made Mr Harding very unhappy. It was quite clear that the
archdeacon and his wife had made up their minds that Eleanor was
going to marry Mr Slope. Mr Harding could not really bring himself
to think that she would do so, but yet he could not deny that
circumstances made it appear that the man's company was not
disagreeable to her. She was now constantly seeing him, and yet she
received visits from no other unmarried gentleman. She always took
his part when his conduct was canvassed, although she was aware how
personally objectionable he was to her friends. Then, again, Mr
Harding felt that if she should choose to become Mrs Slope, he had
nothing that he could justly against her doing so. She had full
right to please herself, and he, as a father could not say that she
would disgrace herself by marrying a clergyman who stood so well
before the world as Mr Slope did. As for quarrelling with his
daughter on account of such a marriage, and separating himself from
her as the archdeacon had threatened to do, that, with Mr Harding,
would be out of the question. If she should determine to marry this
man, he must get over his aversion as best he could. His Eleanor,
his own old companion in their old happy home, must still be friend
of his bosom, the child of his heart. Let who would cast her off,
he would not. If it were fated, that he should have to sit in his
old age at the same table with a man whom of all men he disliked
the most, he would meet his fate as best he might. Anything to him
would be preferable to the loss of his daughter.
Such being his feelings, he hardly knew how to take part with
Eleanor against the archdeacon, or with the archdeacon against
Eleanor. It will be said that he should never have suspected her.
Alas! he never should have done so. But Mr Harding was by no means
a perfect character. His indecision, his weakness, his proneness to
be led by others, his want of self-confidence, he was very far from
being perfect. And then it must be remembered that such a marriage
as that which the archdeacon contemplated with disgust, which we
who know Mr Slope so well would regard with equal disgust, did not
appear so monstrous to Mr Harding, because in his charity he did
not hate the chaplain as the archdeacon did, and as we do.
He was, however, very unhappy when his daughter left the room, and
he had recourse to an old trick of his that was customary to him in
his times of sadness. He began playing some slow tune upon an
imaginary violoncello, drawing one hand slowly backwards and
forwards as though he held a bow in it, and modulating the unreal
chords with the other.
'She'll marry that man as sure as two and two makes four,' said the
practical archdeacon.
'I hope not, I hope not,' said the father. 'But if she does, what
can I say to her? I have no right to object to him.'
'No right!' exclaimed Dr Grantly.
'No right as her father. He is in my own profession, and for aught
we know a good man.'
To this the archdeacon would by no means assent. It was not well,
however, to argue the case against Eleanor in her own drawing-room,
and so they both walked forth and discussed the matter in all the
bearings under the elm trees of the close. Mr Harding also
explained to his son-in-law what had been the purport, at any rate
the alleged purport, of Mr Slope's last visit to the widow. He,
however, stated that he could not bring himself to believe that Mr
Slope had any real anxiety such as that he had pretended. 'I cannot
forget his demeanour to myself,' said Mr Harding, 'and it is not
possible that his ideas should have changed so soon.'
'I see it all,' said the archdeacon. 'The sly tartufe! He thinks to
buy the daughter by providing for the father. He means to show how
powerful he is, how good he is, and how much he is willing to do
for her beaux yeux; yes, I see it all now. But we'll be too many
for him yet, Mr Harding;' he said, turning to his companion with
some gravity, and pressing his hand on the other's arm. 'It would,
perhaps, be better for you to lose the hospital than get it on such
terms.'
'Lose it!' said Mr Harding; 'why I've lost it already. I don't want
it. I've made up my mind to do without it. I'll withdraw
altogether. I'll just go and write a line to the bishop and tell
him that I withdraw my claim altogether.'
Nothing would have pleased him better than to be allowed to escape
from the trouble and difficulty in such a manner. But he was now
going too fast for the archdeacon.
'No--no--no! We'll do no such thing,' said Dr Grantly; 'we'll still
have the hospital. I hardly doubt but that we'll have it. But not
by Mr Slope's assistance. If that be necessary, we'll lose it; but
we'll have it, spite of his teeth, if we can. Arabin will be at
Plumstead to-morrow; you must come over and talk to him.'
The two now turned into the cathedral library, which was used by
the clergymen of the close as a sort of ecclesiastical club-room,
for writing sermons and sometimes letters; also for reading
theological works, and sometimes magazines and newspapers. The
theological works were not disturbed, perhaps, quite as often as
from the appearance of the building the outside public might have
been led to expect. Here the two allies settled on their course of
action. The archdeacon wrote a letter to the bishop, strongly
worded, but still respectful, in which he put forward his
father-in-law's claim to the appointment, and expressed his own
regret that he had not been able to see his lordship when he
called. Of Mr Slope me made no mention whatsoever. It was then
settled that Mr Harding should go to Plumstead on the following
day; and after considerable discussion on the matter, the
archdeacon proposed to ask Eleanor there also, so as to withdraw
her, if possible, from Mr Slope's attentions. 'A week or two,' said
he, 'may teach her what he is, and while she is there she will be
out of harm's way. Mr Slope won't come there after her.'
Eleanor was not a little surprised when her brother-in-law came
back and very civilly pressed her to go out to Plumstead with her
father. She instantly perceived that her father had been fighting
her battles for her behind her back. She felt thankful to him, and
for his sake she would not show her resentment to the archdeacon by
refusing his invitation. But she could not, she said, go on the
morrow; she had an invitation to drink tea at the Stanhopes which
she had promised to accept. She would, she added, go with her
father on the next day, if he would wait; or she would follow him.
'The Stanhopes!' said Dr Grantly; 'I did not know you were so
intimate with them.'
'I did not know it myself,' said she, 'till Miss Stanhope called
yesterday. However, I like her very much, and I have promised to go
and play chess with some of them.'
'Have they a party there?' said the archdeacon, still fearful of Mr
Slope.
'Oh, no,' said Eleanor; 'Miss Stanhope said there was to be nobody
at all. But she had learnt that Mary had left me for a few weeks,
and she had learnt from some one that I play chess, and so she came
over on purpose to ask me to go in.'
'Well, that's very friendly,' said the ex-warden. 'They certainly
do look more like foreigners than English people, but I dare say
they are none the worse for that.'
The archdeacon was inclined to look upon the Stanhopes with
favourable eyes, and had nothing to object on the matter. It was
therefore arranged that Mr Harding should postpone his visit to
Plumstead for one day, and then take with him Eleanor, the baby,
and the nurse.
Mr Slope is certainly becoming of some importance in Barchester.