第81章

Mr Robarts was not altogether easy in his mind as he approached Mr Crawley's house. He was aware that the task before him was a very difficult one, and he had not confidence in himself--that he was exactly the man fitted for the performance of such a task. He was a little afraid of Mr Crawley, acknowledging tacitly to himself that the man had a power of ascendancy with which he would hardly be able to cope successfully. In old days he had once been rebuked by Mr Crawley, and had been cowed by the rebuke; and though there was no touch of rancour in his heart on this account, no slightest remaining venom--but rather increased respect and friendship--still he was unable to overcome his remembrance of the scene in which the perpetual curate of Hogglestock had undoubtedly the mastery of him. So, when two dogs have fought and one has conquered, the conquered dog will always show an unconscious submission to the conqueror.

He hailed a boy on the road as he drew near to the house, knowing that he would find no one at the parsonage to hold his horse for him, and was thus able without delay to walk through the garden and knock at the door. 'Papa was not at home,' Jane said. 'Papa was at the school. But papa could certainly be summoned.' She herself would run across to the school if Mr Robarts would come in. So Mr Robarts entered, and found Mrs Crawley in the sitting-room. Mr Crawley would be in directly, she said.

And then, hurrying on to the subject with confused haste, in order that a word or two might be spoken before her husband came back, she expressed her thanks and his for the good things which had been sent to them at Christmas-tide.

'It's old Lady Lufton's doings,' said Mr Robarts, trying to laugh the matter over.

'I knew that it came from Framley, Mr Robarts, and I know how good you all are there. I have not written to thank Lady Lufton. I thought it better not to write. Your sister will understand why, if no one else does. But you will tell them from me, I am sure, that it was, as they intended, a comfort to us. Your sister knows too much of us for me to suppose that our great poverty can be a secret from her. And, as far as I am concerned, I do not much care who knows it.'

'There is no disgrace in not being rich,' said Mr Robarts.

'No; and the feeling of disgrace which does attach itself to being so poor as we are is deadened by the actual suffering which such poverty brings with it. At least it has become so with me. I am not ashamed to say that I am very grateful for what you all have done for us at Framley. But you must not say anything to him about it.'

'Of course I will not, Mrs Crawley.'

'His spirit is higher than mine, I think, and he suffers more from the natural disinclination which we all have from receiving alms. Are you going to speak to him about the affair--the cheque, Mr Robarts?'

'I am going to ask him to put his case into some lawyer's hands.'

'Oh! I wish he would!'

'And will he not?'

'It is very kind of you, your coming to ask him, but--'

'Has he so strong an objection?'

'He will tell you that he has no money to pay a lawyer.'

'But, surely, if he were convinced that it was absolutely necessary for the vindication of his innocence, he would submit to charge himself with an expense so necessary, not only for himself, but for his family?'

'He will say it ought not to be necessary. You know, Mr Robarts, that in some respects he is not like other men. You will not let what I say of him set you against him?'

'Indeed, no.'

'It is most kind of you to make the attempt. He will be here directly, and when he comes I will leave you together.'

While she was yet speaking his step was heard along the gravel-path, and he hurried into the room with quick steps. 'I crave your pardon, Mr Robarts,' he said, 'that I should keep you waiting.' now Mr Robarts had not been there ten minutes, and any such asking of pardon was hardly necessary. And, even in his own house, Mr Crawley affected a mock humility, as though, either through his own debasement, or because of the superior station of the other clergyman, he were not entitled to put himself on an equal footing with his visitor. He would not have shaken hands with Mr Robarts--intending to indicate that he did not presume to do so while the present accusation was hanging over him--had not the action been forced upon him. And then there was something of a protest in his manner, as though remonstrating against a thing that was unbecoming to him. Mr Robarts, without analysing it, understood it all, and knew that behind the humility there was a crushing pride--a pride which, in all probability, would rise up and crush him before he could get himself out of the room again. It was, perhaps, after all, a question whether the man was not served rightly by the extremities to which he was reduced. There was something radically wrong within him, which had put him into antagonism with all the world, and which produced these never-dying grievances. There were many clergymen in the country with incomes as small as that which had fallen to the lot of Mr Crawley, but they managed to get on without displaying their sores as Mr Crawley displayed his. They did not wear their old rusty cloaks with all that ostentatious bitterness of poverty which seemed to belong to that garment when displayed on Mr Crawley's shoulders. Such, for a moment, were Mr Robarts' thoughts, and he almost repented himself of his present mission. But then he thought of Mrs Crawley, and remembering that her sufferings were at any rate undeserved, determined that he would persevere.

Mrs Crawley disappeared almost as soon as her husband appeared, and Mr Robarts found himself standing in front of his friend, who remained fixed to the spot, with his hands folded over each other and his neck bent slightly forward, in token also of humility. 'I regret,' he said, 'that your horse should be left there, exposed to the inclemency of the weather; but--'

'The horse won't mind it a bit,' said Mr Robarts. 'A parson's horse is like a butcher's, and knows he mustn't be particular about waiting in the cold.'