Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope (good books to read for young adults TXT) 📕

with the same eyes;” and then he rode on, in order, as he said, that the first pang of the interview might be over before Robarts and his sister came upon the scene.

Mr. Crawley was standing before his door, leaning over the little wooden railing, when the dean trotted up on his horse. He had come out after hours of close watching to get a few mouthfuls of the sweet summer air, and as he stood there he held the youngest of his children in his arms. The poor little baby sat there, quiet indeed, but hardly happy. This father, though he loved his offspring with an affection as intense as that which human nature can supply, was not gifted with the knack of making children fond of him; for it is hardly more than a knack, that aptitude which some men have of gaining the good graces of the young. Such men are not always the best fathers or the safest guardians; but they carry about with them a certain duc ad me which children recognize, and which in three minutes upsets all the barriers between five and five-and-forty. But Mr. Crawley was a stern man, thinking ever of the souls and minds of his bairns⁠—as a father should do; and thinking also that every season was fitted for operating on these souls and minds⁠—as, perhaps, he should not have done either as a father or as a teacher. And consequently his children avoided him when the choice was given them, thereby adding fresh wounds to his torn heart, but by no means quenching any of the great love with which he regarded them.

He was standing there thus with a placid little baby in his arms⁠—a baby placid enough, but one that would not kiss him eagerly, and stroke his face with her soft little hands, as he would have had her do⁠—when he saw the dean coming towards him. He was sharp-sighted as a lynx out in the open air, though now obliged to pore over his well-fingered books with spectacles on his nose; and thus he knew his friend from a long distance, and had time to meditate the mode of his greeting. He too doubtless had come, if not with jelly and chicken, then with money and advice;⁠—with money and advice such as a thriving dean might offer to a poor brother clergyman; and Mr. Crawley, though no husband could possibly be more anxious for a wife’s safety than he was, immediately put his back up and began to bethink himself how these tenders might be rejected.

“How is she?” were the first words which the dean spoke as he pulled up his horse close to the little gate, and put out his hand to take that of his friend.

“How are you, Arabin?” said he. “It is very kind of you to come so far, seeing how much there is to keep you at Barchester. I cannot say that she is any better, but I do not know that she is worse. Sometimes I fancy that she is delirious, though I hardly know. At any rate her mind wanders, and then after that she sleeps.”

“But is the fever less?”

“Sometimes less and sometimes more, I imagine.”

“And the children?”

“Poor things; they are well as yet.”

“They must be taken from this, Crawley, as a matter of course.”

Mr. Crawley fancied that there was a tone of authority in the dean’s advice, and immediately put himself into opposition.

“I do not know how that may be; I have not yet made up my mind.”

“But, my dear Crawley⁠—”

“Providence does not admit of such removals in all cases,” said he. “Among the poorer classes the children must endure such perils.”

“In many cases it is so,” said the dean, by no means inclined to make an argument of it at the present moment; “but in this case they need not. You must allow me to make arrangements for sending for them, as of course your time is occupied here.”

Miss Robarts, though she had mentioned her intention of staying with Mrs. Crawley, had said nothing of the Framley plan with reference to the children.

“What you mean is that you intend to take the burden off my shoulders⁠—in fact, to pay for them. I cannot allow that, Arabin. They must take the lot of their father and their mother, as it is proper that they should do.”

Again the dean had no inclination for arguing, and thought it might be well to let the question of the children drop for a little while.

“And is there no nurse with her?” said he.

“No, no; I am seeing to her myself at the present moment. A woman will be here just now.”

“What woman?”

“Well; her name is Mrs. Stubbs; she lives in the parish. She will put the younger children to bed, and⁠—and⁠—but it’s no use troubling you with all that. There was a young lady talked of coming, but no doubt she has found it too inconvenient. It will be better as it is.”

“You mean Miss Robarts; she will be here directly; I passed her as I came here;” and as Dr. Arabin was yet speaking, the noise of the carriage wheels was heard upon the road.

“I will go in now,” said Mr. Crawley, “and see if she still sleeps;” and then he entered the house, leaving the dean at the door still seated upon his horse. “He will be afraid of the infection, and I will not ask him to come in,” said Mr. Crawley to himself.

“I shall seem to be prying into his poverty, if I enter unasked,” said the dean to himself. And so he remained there till Puck, now acquainted with the locality, stopped at the door.

“Have you not been in?” said Robarts.

“No; Crawley has been at the door talking to me; he will be here directly, I suppose;” and then Mark Robarts also prepared himself to wait till the master of the house should reappear.

But Lucy had no such punctilious misgivings; she did not much care now whether she offended Mr. Crawley or no. Her idea was