marchioness.
âHe is Lord Luftonâs man of business, my dear.â
âOh, Lord Luftonâs man of business!â There was something of a sneer in the tone of the ladyâs voice as she mentioned Lord Luftonâs name.
âI am told,â continued the archdeacon, âthat Soames declares the cheque was taken from a pocket-book which he left by accident in Crawleyâs house.â
âYou donât mean to say, archdeacon, that you think that Mr Crawley â a clergyman â stole it!â said Mrs Grantly.
âI donât say anything of the kind, my dear. But supposing Mr Crawley to be as honest as the sun, you wouldnât wish Henry to marry his daughter.â
âCertainly not,â said the mother. âIt would be an unfitting marriage. The poor girl has no advantages.â
âHe is not able even to pay his bakerâs bill. I always thought Arabin was very wrong to place such a man in such a parish as Hogglestock. Of course the family could not live there.â The Arabin here spoken of was Dr Arabin, dean of Barchester. The dean and the archdeacon had married sisters, and there was much intimacy between the families.
âAfter all it is only a rumour as yet,â said Mrs Grantly.
âFothergill told me only yesterday, that he sees her almost every day,â said the father. âWhat are we to do, Griselda? You know how headstrong Henry is.â The marchioness sat quite still; looking at the fire, and made no immediate answer to this address.
âThere is nothing for it, but that you should tell him what you think,â said the mother.
âIf his sister were to speak to him, it might do much,â said the archdeacon. To this Mrs Grantly said nothing; but Mrs Grantlyâs daughter understood very well that her motherâs confidence in her was not equal to her fatherâs. Lady Hartletop said nothing, but still sat, with impassive face, and eyes fixed upon the fire. âI think that if you were to speak to him, Griselda, and tell him that he would disgrace his family, he would be ashamed to go on with such a marriage,â said the father. âHe would feel, connected as he is with Lord Hartletop ââ
âI donât think he would feel anything about that,â said Mrs Grantly.
âI daresay not,â said Lady Hartletop.
âI am sure he ought to feel it,â said the father. They were all silent, and sat looking at the fire.
âI suppose, papa, you allow Henry an income,â said Lady Hartletop, after a while.
âIndeed I do â eight hundred a year.â
âThen I think I should tell him that that must depend upon his conduct. Mamma, if you wonât mind ringing the bell, I will send for Cecile, and go upstairs and dress.â Then the marchioness went upstairs to dress, and in about an hour the major arrived in his dog-cart. 1 He also was allowed to go upstairs to dress before anything was said to him about his great offence.
âGriselda is right,â said the archdeacon, speaking to his wife out of his dressing-room. âShe always was right. I never knew a young woman with more sense than Griselda.â
âBut you do not mean to say that in any event you would stop Henryâs income?â Mrs Grantly also was dressing, and made reply out of her bedroom.
âUpon my word, I donât know. As a father I would do anything to prevent such a marriage as that.â
âBut if he did marry her in spite of the threat? And he would if he had once said so.â
âIs a fatherâs word, then, to go for nothing; and a father who allowshis son eight hundred a year? If he told the girl that he would be ruined she couldnât hold him to it.â
âMy dear, theyâd know as well as I do, that you would give way after three months.â
âBut why should I give way? Good heavens â !â
âOf course youâd give way, and of course we
Christine Zolendz, Frankie Sutton, Okaycreations