Framley Parsonage, Anthony Trollope [popular e readers txt] 📗

Mr. Robarts and Fanny were both standing up by the fireplace, and each waited a second for the other to speak when Lucy entered the room; and then Fanny began⁠—

“Lord Lufton is here, Lucy.”

“Here! Where? At the parsonage?”

“No, not at the parsonage; but over at Framley Court,” said Mark.

“And he promises to call here after breakfast tomorrow,” said Fanny. And then again there was a pause. Mrs. Robarts hardly dared to look Lucy in the face. She had not betrayed her trust, seeing that the secret had been told to Mark, not by her, but by Lord Lufton; but she could not but feel that Lucy would think that she had betrayed it.

“Very well,” said Lucy, trying to smile; “I have no objection in life.”

“But, Lucy, dear,”⁠—and now Mrs. Robarts put her arm round her sister-in-law’s waist⁠—“he is coming here especially to see you.”

“Oh; that makes a difference. I am afraid that I shall be⁠—engaged.”

“He has told everything to Mark,” said Mrs. Robarts.

Lucy now felt that her bravery was almost deserting her. She hardly knew which way to look or how to stand. Had Fanny told everything also? There was so much that Fanny knew that Lord Lufton could not have known. But, in truth, Fanny had told all⁠—the whole story of Lucy’s love, and had described the reasons which had induced her to reject her suitor; and had done so in words which, had Lord Lufton heard them, would have made him twice as passionate in his love.

And then it certainly did occur to Lucy to think why Lord Lufton should have come to Framley and told all this history to her brother. She attempted for a moment to make herself believe that she was angry with him for doing so. But she was not angry. She had not time to argue much about it, but there came upon her a gratified sensation of having been remembered, and thought of, and⁠—loved. Must it not be so? Could it be possible that he himself would have told this tale to her brother, if he did not still love her? Fifty times she had said to herself that his offer had been an affair of the moment, and fifty times she had been unhappy in so saying. But this new coming of his could not be an affair of the moment. She had been the dupe, she had thought, of an absurd passion on her own part; but now⁠—how was it now? She did not bring herself to think that she should ever be Lady Lufton. She had still, in some perversely obstinate manner, made up her mind against that result. But yet, nevertheless, it did in some unaccountable manner satisfy her to feel that Lord Lufton had himself come down to Framley and himself told this story.

“He has told everything to Mark,” said Mrs. Robarts; and then again there was a pause for a moment, during which these thoughts passed through Lucy’s mind.

“Yes,” said Mark, “he has told me all, and he is coming here tomorrow morning that he may receive an answer from yourself.”

“What answer?” said Lucy, trembling.

“Nay, dearest; who can say that but yourself?” and her sister-in-law, as she spoke, pressed close against her. “You must say that yourself.”

Mrs. Robarts in her long conversation with her husband had pleaded strongly on Lucy’s behalf, taking, as it were, a part against Lady Lufton. She had said that if Lord Lufton persevered in his suit, they at the parsonage could not be justified in robbing Lucy of all that she had won for herself, in order to do Lady Lufton’s pleasure.

“But she will think,” said Mark, “that we have plotted and intrigued for this. She will call us ungrateful, and will make Lucy’s life wretched.” To which the wife had answered, that all that must be left in God’s hands. They had not plotted or intrigued. Lucy, though loving the man in her heart of hearts, had already once refused him, because she would not be thought to have snatched at so great a prize. But if Lord Lufton loved her so warmly that he had come down there in this manner, on purpose, as he himself had put it, that he might learn his fate, then⁠—so argued Mrs. Robarts⁠—they two, let their loyalty to Lady Lufton be ever so strong, could not justify it to their consciences to stand between Lucy and her lover. Mark had still somewhat demurred to this, suggesting how terrible would be their plight if they should now encourage Lord Lufton, and if he, after such encouragement, when they should have quarrelled with Lady Lufton, should allow himself to be led away from his engagement by his mother. To which Fanny had answered that justice was justice, and that right was right. Everything must be told to Lucy, and she must judge for herself.

“But I do not know what Lord Lufton wants,” said Lucy, with her eyes fixed upon the ground, and now trembling more than ever. “He did come to me, and I did give him an answer.”

“And is that answer to be final?” said Mark⁠—somewhat cruelly, for Lucy had not yet been told that her lover had made any repetition of his proposal. Fanny, however, determined that no injustice should be done, and therefore she at last continued the story.

“We know that you did give him an answer, dearest; but gentlemen sometimes will not put up with one answer on such a subject. Lord Lufton has declared to Mark that he means to ask again. He has come down here on purpose to do so.”

“And Lady Lufton⁠—” said Lucy, speaking hardly above a whisper, and still hiding her face as she leaned against her sister’s shoulder.

“Lord Lufton has not spoken to his mother about it,” said Mark; and it immediately became clear to Lucy, from the tone of her brother’s voice, that he, at least, would not be pleased, should she accept her lover’s vow.

“You must decide out of your own heart, dear,” said