Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope (e reading malayalam books TXT) 📕

do so requires a disagreeable resolution and also a disagreeable suspicion. There are people of both sexes who never make confidences, who are never tempted by momentary circumstances to disclose their secrets, but such are generally dull, close, unimpassioned spirits, “gloomy gnomes, who live in cold dark mines.” There was nothing of the gnome about Eleanor, and she therefore resolved to tell Charlotte Stanhope the whole story about Mr. Slope.

“That horrid man; that Mr. Slope,” said she. “Did you not see that he followed me out of the dining-room?”

“Of course I did, and was sorry enough, but I could not help it. I knew you would be annoyed. But you and Bertie managed it badly between you.”

“It was not his fault nor mine either. You know how I disliked the idea of coming in the carriage with that man.”

“I am sure I am very sorry if that has led to it.”

“I don’t know what has led to it,” said Eleanor, almost crying again. “But it has not been my fault.”

“But what has he done, my dear?”

“He’s an abominable, horrid, hypocritical man, and it would serve him right to tell the bishop all about it.”

“Believe me, if you want to do him an injury, you had far better tell Mrs. Proudie. But what did he do, Mrs. Bold?”

“Ugh!” exclaimed Eleanor.

“Well, I must confess he’s not very nice,” said Charlotte Stanhope.

“Nice!” said Eleanor. “He is the most fulsome, fawning, abominable man I ever saw. What business had he to come to me?⁠—I that never gave him the slightest tittle of encouragement⁠—I that always hated him, though I did take his part when others ran him down.”

“That’s just where it is, my dear. He has heard that and therefore fancied that of course you were in love with him.”

This was wormwood to Eleanor. It was in fact the very thing which all her friends had been saying for the last month past⁠—and which experience now proved to be true. Eleanor resolved within herself that she would never again take any man’s part. The world, with all its villainy and all its ill-nature, might wag as it liked: she would not again attempt to set crooked things straight.

“But what did he do, my dear?” said Charlotte, who was really rather interested in the subject.

“He⁠—he⁠—he⁠—”

“Well⁠—come, it can’t have been anything so very horrid, for the man was not tipsy.”

“Oh, I am sure he was” said Eleanor. “I am sure he must have been tipsy.”

“Well, I declare I didn’t observe it. But what was it, my love?”

“Why, I believe I can hardly tell you. He talked such horrid stuff that you never heard the like: about religion, and heaven, and love. Oh, dear⁠—he is such a nasty man.”

“I can easily imagine the sort of stuff he would talk. Well⁠—and then⁠—?”

“And then⁠—he took hold of me.”

“Took hold of you?”

“Yes⁠—he somehow got close to me and took hold of me⁠—”

“By the waist?”

“Yes,” said Eleanor shuddering.

“And then⁠—”

“Then I jumped away from him, and gave him a slap on the face, and ran away along the path till I saw you.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” Charlotte Stanhope laughed heartily at the finale to the tragedy. It was delightful to her to think that Mr. Slope had had his ears boxed. She did not quite appreciate the feeling which made her friend so unhappy at the result of the interview. To her thinking the matter had ended happily enough as regarded the widow, who indeed was entitled to some sort of triumph among her friends. Whereas to Mr. Slope would be due all those gibes and jeers which would naturally follow such an affair. His friends would ask him whether his ears tingled whenever he saw a widow, and he would be cautioned that beautiful things were made to be looked at and not to be touched.

Such were Charlotte Stanhope’s views on such matters, but she did not at the present moment clearly explain them to Mrs. Bold. Her object was to endear herself to her friend, and therefore, having had her laugh, she was ready enough to offer sympathy. Could Bertie do anything? Should Bertie speak to the man and warn him that in future he must behave with more decorum? Bertie indeed, she declared, would be more angry than anyone else when he heard to what insult Mrs. Bold had been subjected.

“But you won’t tell him?” said Mrs. Bold with a look of horror.

“Not if you don’t like it,” said Charlotte; “but considering everything, I would strongly advise it. If you had a brother, you know, it would be unnecessary. But it is very right that Mr. Slope should know that you have somebody by you that will and can protect you.”

“But my father is here.”

“Yes, but it is so disagreeable for clergymen to have to quarrel with each other; and circumstanced as your father is just at this moment, it would be very inexpedient that there should be anything unpleasant between him and Mr. Slope. Surely you and Bertie are intimate enough for you to permit him to take your part.”

Charlotte Stanhope was very anxious that her brother should at once on that very day settle matters with his future wife. Things had now come to that point between him and his father, and between him and his creditors, that he must either do so, or leave Barchester; either do that, or go back to his unwashed associates, dirty lodgings, and poor living at Carrara. Unless he could provide himself with an income, he must go to Carrara, or to ⸻. His father the prebendary had not said this in so many words, but had he done so, he could not have signified it more plainly.

Such being the state of the case it was very necessary that no more time should be lost. Charlotte had seen her brother’s apathy, when he neglected to follow Mrs. Bold out of the room, with anger which she could hardly suppress. It was grievous to think that Mr. Slope should have so distanced him. Charlotte felt that she had played her part with sufficient skill. She had