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

said Mr. Quiverful in his deep anxiety to prove his case, “my wife received as distinct a promise from Mrs. Proudie as one human being could give to another.”

Mr. Slope smiled and gently shook his head. He meant the smile for a pleasant smile, but it was diabolical in the eyes of the man he was speaking to. “Mrs. Proudie!” he said. “If we are to go to what passes between the ladies in these matters, we shall really be in a nest of troubles from which we shall never extricate ourselves. Mrs. Proudie is a most excellent lady, kindhearted, charitable, pious, and in every way estimable. But, my dear Mr. Quiverful, the patronage of the diocese is not in her hands.”

Mr. Quiverful for a moment sat panic-stricken and silent. “Am I to understand, then, that I have received no promise?” he said as soon as he had sufficiently collected his thoughts.

“If you will allow me, I will tell you exactly how the matter rests. You certainly did receive a promise conditional on Mr. Harding’s refusal. I am sure you will do me the justice to remember that you yourself declared that you could accept the appointment on no other condition than the knowledge that Mr. Harding had declined it.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Quiverful; “I did say that, certainly.”

“Well, it now appears that he did not refuse it.”

“But surely you told me, and repeated it more than once, that he had done so in your own hearing.”

“So I understood him. But it seems I was in error. But don’t for a moment, Mr. Quiverful, suppose that I mean to throw you over. No. Having held out my hand to a man in your position, with your large family and pressing claims, I am not now going to draw it back again. I only want you to act with me fairly and honestly.”

“Whatever I do I shall endeavour at any rate to act fairly,” said the poor man, feeling that he had to fall back for support on the spirit of martyrdom within him.

“I am sure you will,” said the other. “I am sure you have no wish to obtain possession of an income which belongs by all right to another. No man knows better than you do Mr. Harding’s history, or can better appreciate his character. Mr. Harding is very desirous of returning to his old position, and the bishop feels that he is at the present moment somewhat hampered, though of course he is not bound, by the conversation which took place on the matter between you and me.”

“Well,” said Mr. Quiverful, dreadfully doubtful as to what his conduct under such circumstances should be, and fruitlessly striving to harden his nerves with some of that instinct of self-preservation which made his wife so bold.

“The wardenship of this little hospital is not the only thing in the bishop’s gift, Mr. Quiverful, nor is it by many degrees the best. And his lordship is not the man to forget anyone whom he has once marked with approval. If you would allow me to advise you as a friend⁠—”

“Indeed, I shall be most grateful to you,” said the poor vicar of Puddingdale.

“I should advise you to withdraw from any opposition to Mr. Harding’s claims. If you persist in your demand, I do not think you will ultimately succeed. Mr. Harding has all but a positive right to the place. But if you will allow me to inform the bishop that you decline to stand in Mr. Harding’s way, I think I may promise you⁠—though, by the by, it must not be taken as a formal promise⁠—that the bishop will not allow you to be a poorer man than you would have been had you become warden.”

Mr. Quiverful sat in his armchair, silent, gazing at vacancy. What was he to say? All this that came from Mr. Slope was so true. Mr. Harding had a right to the hospital. The bishop had a great many good things to give away. Both the bishop and Mr. Slope would be excellent friends and terrible enemies to a man in his position. And then he had no proof of any promise; he could not force the bishop to appoint him.

“Well, Mr. Quiverful, what do you say about it?”

“Oh, of course, whatever you think fit, Mr. Slope. It’s a great disappointment, a very great disappointment. I won’t deny that I am a very poor man, Mr. Slope.”

“In the end, Mr. Quiverful, you will find that it will have been better for you.”

The interview ended in Mr. Slope receiving a full renunciation from Mr. Quiverful of any claim he might have to the appointment in question. It was only given verbally and without witnesses, but then the original promise was made in the same way.

Mr. Slope again assured him that he should not be forgotten, and then rode back to Barchester, satisfied that he would now be able to mould the bishop to his wishes.

XXV Fourteen Arguments in Favour of Mr. Quiverful’s Claims

We have most of us heard of the terrible anger of a lioness when, surrounded by her cubs, she guards her prey. Few of us wish to disturb the mother of a litter of puppies when mouthing a bone in the midst of her young family. Medea and her children are familiar to us, and so is the grief of Constance. Mrs. Quiverful, when she first heard from her husband the news which he had to impart, felt within her bosom all the rage of the lioness, the rapacity of the hound, the fury of the tragic queen, and the deep despair of the bereaved mother.

Doubting, but yet hardly fearing, what might have been the tenor of Mr. Slope’s discourse, she rushed back to her husband as soon as the front door was closed behind the visitor. It was well for Mr. Slope that he so escaped⁠—the anger of such a woman, at such a moment, would have cowed even him. As a general rule, it is highly desirable that ladies should keep their temper: a woman when she storms always makes herself ugly, and usually ridiculous also. There is nothing so odious to