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

And then there came a question whether or no Griselda should go back to her mother; but this idea was very strongly opposed by Lady Lufton, and ultimately with success. “I really think the dear girl is very happy with me,” said Lady Lufton; “and if ever she is to belong to me more closely, it will be so well that we should know and love one another.”

To tell the truth, Lady Lufton had been trying hard to know and love Griselda, but hitherto she had scarcely succeeded to the full extent of her wishes. That she loved Griselda was certain⁠—with that sort of love which springs from a person’s volition and not from the judgment. She had said all along to herself and others that she did love Griselda Grantly. She had admired the young lady’s face, liked her manner, approved of her fortune and family, and had selected her for a daughter-in-law in a somewhat impetuous manner. Therefore she loved her. But it was by no means clear to Lady Lufton that she did as yet know her young friend. The match was a plan of her own, and therefore she stuck to it as warmly as ever, but she began to have some misgivings whether or no the dear girl would be to her herself all that she had dreamed of in a daughter-in-law.

“But, dear Lady Lufton,” said Mrs. Grantly, “is it not possible that we may put her affections to too severe a test? What, if she should learn to regard him, and then⁠—”

“Ah! if she did, I should have no fear of the result. If she showed anything like love for Ludovic, he would be at her feet in a moment. He is impulsive, but she is not.”

“Exactly, Lady Lufton. It is his privilege to be impulsive and to sue for her affection, and hers to have her love sought for without making any demonstration. It is perhaps the fault of young ladies of the present day that they are too impulsive. They assume privileges which are not their own, and thus lose those which are.”

“Quite true! I quite agree with you. It is probably that very feeling that has made me think so highly of Griselda. But then⁠—” But then a young lady, though she need not jump down a gentleman’s throat, or throw herself into his face, may give some signs that she is made of flesh and blood; especially when her papa and mamma and all belonging to her are so anxious to make the path of her love run smooth. That was what was passing through Lady Lufton’s mind; but she did not say it all; she merely looked it.

“I don’t think she will ever allow herself to indulge in an unauthorized passion,” said Mrs. Grantly.

“I am sure she will not,” said Lady Lufton, with ready agreement, fearing perhaps in her heart that Griselda would never indulge in any passion, authorized or unauthorized.

“I don’t know whether Lord Lufton sees much of her now,” said Mrs. Grantly, thinking perhaps of that promise of Lady Lufton’s with reference to his lordship’s spare time.

“Just lately, during these changes, you know, everybody has been so much engaged. Ludovic has been constantly at the House, and then men find it so necessary to be at their clubs just now.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Mrs. Grantly, who was not at all disposed to think little of the importance of the present crisis, or to wonder that men should congregate together when such deeds were to be done as those which now occupied the breasts of the Queen’s advisers. At last, however, the two mothers perfectly understood each other. Griselda was still to remain with Lady Lufton; and was to accept her ladyship’s son, if he could only be induced to exercise his privilege of asking her; but in the meantime, as this seemed to be doubtful, Griselda was not to be debarred from her privilege of making what use she could of any other string which she might have to her bow.

“But, mamma,” said Griselda, in a moment of unwatched intercourse between the mother and daughter, “is it really true that they are going to make papa a bishop?”

“We can tell nothing as yet, my dear. People in the world are talking about it. Your papa has been a good deal with Lord De Terrier.”

“And isn’t he prime minister?”

“Oh, yes; I am happy to say that he is.”

“I thought the prime minister could make anyone a bishop that he chooses⁠—any clergyman, that is.”

“But there is no see vacant,” said Mrs. Grantly.

“Then there isn’t any chance,” said Griselda, looking very glum.

“They are going to have an Act of Parliament for making two more bishops. That’s what they are talking about at least. And if they do⁠—”

“Papa will be Bishop of Westminster⁠—won’t he? And we shall live in London?”

“But you must not talk about it, my dear.”

“No, I won’t. But, mamma, a Bishop of Westminster will be higher than a Bishop of Barchester; won’t he? I shall so like to be able to snub those Miss Proudies.” It will therefore be seen that there were matters on which even Griselda Grantly could be animated. Like the rest of her family she was devoted to the Church.

Late on that afternoon the archdeacon returned home to dine in Mount Street, having spent the whole of the day between the Treasury chambers, a meeting of Convocation, and his club. And when he did get home it was soon manifest to his wife that he was not laden with good news.

“It is almost incredible,” he said, standing with his back to the drawing-room fire.

“What is incredible?” said his wife, sharing her husband’s anxiety to the full.

“If I had not learned it as fact, I would not have believed it, even of Lord Brock,” said the archdeacon.

“Learned what?” said the anxious wife.

“After all, they are going to oppose the bill.”

“Impossible!” said Mrs. Grantly.

“But they are.”

“The bill for the two new bishops, archdeacon? oppose their