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

The very thought of it filled Mark’s soul with horror and dismay. It might be that Lord Lufton’s suspicions were now at rest; but others would think the same thing, and their suspicions it would be impossible to allay; those others would consist of the outer world, which is always so eager to gloat over the detected vice of a clergyman.

And then that wretched horse which he had purchased, and the purchase of which should have prohibited him from saying that nothing of value had accrued to him in these transactions with Mr. Sowerby! what was he to do about that? And then of late he had been spending, and had continued to spend, more money than he could well afford. This very journey of his up to London would be most imprudent, if it should become necessary for him to give up all hope of holding the prebend. As to that he had made up his mind; but then again he unmade it, as men always do in such troubles. That line of conduct which he had laid down for himself in the first moments of his indignation against Lord Lufton, by adopting which he would have to encounter poverty, and ridicule, and discomfort, the annihilation of his high hopes, and the ruin of his ambition⁠—that, he said to himself over and over again, would now be the best for him. But it is so hard for us to give up our high hopes, and willingly encounter poverty, ridicule, and discomfort!

On the following morning, however, he boldly walked down to the Petty Bag office, determined to let Harold Smith know that he was no longer desirous of the Barchester stall. He found his brother there, still writing artistic notes to anxious peeresses on the subject of Buggins’ non-vacant situation; but the great man of the place, the Lord Petty Bag himself, was not there. He might probably look in when the House was beginning to sit, perhaps at four or a little after; but he certainly would not be at the office in the morning. The functions of the Lord Petty Bag he was no doubt performing elsewhere. Perhaps he had carried his work home with him⁠—a practice which the world should know is not uncommon with civil servants of exceeding zeal.

Mark did think of opening his heart to his brother, and of leaving his message with him. But his courage failed him, or perhaps it might be more correct to say that his prudence prevented him. It would be better for him, he thought, to tell his wife before he told anyone else. So he merely chatted with his brother for half an hour and then left him.

The day was very tedious till the hour came at which he was to attend at Lord Lufton’s rooms; but at last it did come, and just as the clock struck, he turned out of Piccadilly into the Albany. As he was going across the court before he entered the building, he was greeted by a voice just behind him.

“As punctual as the big clock on Barchester tower,” said Mr. Sowerby. “See what it is to have a summons from a great man, Mr. Prebendary.”

He turned round and extended his hand mechanically to Mr. Sowerby, and as he looked at him he thought he had never before seen him so pleasant in appearance, so free from care, and so joyous in demeanour.

“You have heard from Lord Lufton,” said Mark in a voice that was certainly very lugubrious.

“Heard from him! oh, yes, of course I have heard from him. I’ll tell you what it is, Mark,” and he now spoke almost in a whisper as they walked together along the Albany passage, “Lufton is a child in money matters⁠—a perfect child. The dearest, finest fellow in the world, you know; but a very baby in money matters.” And then they entered his lordship’s rooms.

Lord Lufton’s countenance also was lugubrious enough, but this did not in the least abash Sowerby, who walked quickly up to the young lord with his gait perfectly self-possessed and his face radiant with satisfaction.

“Well, Lufton, how are you?” said he. “It seems that my worthy friend Tozer has been giving you some trouble?”

Then Lord Lufton with a face by no means radiant with satisfaction again began the story of Tozer’s fraudulent demand upon him. Sowerby did not interrupt him, but listened patiently to the end;⁠—quite patiently, although Lord Lufton, as he made himself more and more angry by the history of his own wrongs, did not hesitate to pronounce certain threats against Mr. Sowerby, as he had pronounced them before against Mark Robarts. He would not, he said, pay a shilling, except through his lawyer; and he would instruct his lawyer, that before he paid anything, the whole matter should be exposed openly in court. He did not care, he said, what might be the effect on himself or anyone else. He was determined that the whole case should go to a jury.

“To grand jury, and special jury, and common jury, and Old Jewry, if you like,” said Sowerby. “The truth is, Lufton, you lost some money, and as there was some delay in paying it, you have been harassed.”

“I have paid more than I lost three times over,” said Lord Lufton, stamping his foot.

“I will not go into that question now. It was settled, as I thought, some time ago by persons to whom you yourself referred it. But will you tell me this: Why on earth should Robarts be troubled in this matter? What has he done?”

“Well, I don’t know. He arranged the matter with you.”

“No such thing. He was kind enough to carry a message from you to me, and to convey back a return message from me to you. That has been his part in it.”

“You don’t suppose that I want to implicate him: do you?”

“I don’t think you want to implicate anyone, but you are hotheaded and difficult to deal with, and very irrational into the bargain. And,