The Last Chronicle of Barset. Anthony Trollope

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СКАЧАТЬ Sunday.”

      “My dear, how can you say such wicked things! I shall not tell him anything of the kind.”

      “That’s not wicked, Mrs. Boyce. If I were to say I had eaten so much lunch that I didn’t want any dinner, you’d understand that. If Mr. Swanton will preach for three-quarters of an hour—”

      “He only preached for three-quarters of an hour once, Lily.”

      “He has been over the half-hour every Sunday since he has been here. His average is over forty minutes, and I say it’s a shame.”

      “It is not a shame at all, Lily,” said Mrs. Boyce, becoming very serious.

      “Look at my uncle; he doesn’t like to go to sleep, and he has to suffer a purgatory in keeping himself awake.”

      “If your uncle is heavy, how can Mr. Swanton help it? If Mr. Dale’s mind were on the subject he would not sleep.”

      “Come, Mrs. Boyce; there’s somebody else sleeps sometimes besides my uncle. When Mr. Boyce puts up his finger and just touches his nose, I know as well as possible why he does it.”

      “Lily Dale, you have no business to say so. It is not true. I don’t know how you can bring yourself to talk in that way of your own clergyman. If I were to tell your mamma she would be shocked.”

      “You won’t be so illnatured, Mrs. Boyce,—after all that I’ve done for the church.”

      “If you’d think more about the clergyman, Lily, and less about the church,” said Mrs. Boyce very sententiously, “more about the matter and less about the manner, more of the reality and less of the form, I think you’d find that your religion would go further with you. Miss Crawley is the daughter of a clergyman, and I’m sure she’ll agree with me.”

      “If she agrees with anybody in scolding me I’ll quarrel with her.”

      “I didn’t mean to scold you, Lily.”

      “I don’t mind it from you, Mrs. Boyce. Indeed, I rather like it. It is a sort of pastoral visitation; and as Mr. Boyce never scolds me himself, of course I take it as coming from him by attorney.” Then there was silence for a minute or two, during which Mrs. Boyce was endeavouring to discover whether Miss Dale was laughing at her or not. As she was not quite certain, she thought at last that she would let the suspected fault pass unobserved. “Don’t wait for us, Mrs. Boyce,” said Lily. “We must remain till Hopkins has sent Gregory to sweep the church out and take away the rubbish. We’ll see that the key is left at Mrs. Giles’s.”

      “Thank you, my dear. Then I may as well go. I thought I’d come in and see that it was all right. I’m sure Mr. Boyce will be very much obliged to you and Miss Crawley. Goodnight, my dear.”

      “Goodnight, Mrs. Boyce; and be sure you don’t let Mr. Swanton be long tomorrow.” To this parting shot Mrs. Boyce made no rejoinder; but she hurried out of the church somewhat the quicker for it, and closed the door after her with something of a slam.

      Of all persons clergymen are the most irreverent in the handling of things supposed to be sacred, and next to them clergymen’s wives, and after them those other ladies, old or young, who take upon themselves semi-clerical duties. And it is natural that it should be so; for is it not said that familiarity does breed contempt? When a parson takes his lay friend over his church on a week day, how much less of the spirit of genuflexion and head-uncovering the clergyman will display than the layman! The parson pulls about the woodwork and knocks about the stonework, as though it were mere wood and stone; and talks aloud in the aisle, and treats even the reading-desk as a common thing; whereas the visitor whispers gently, and carries himself as though even in looking at a church he was bound to regard himself as performing some service that was half divine. Now Lily Dale and Grace Crawley were both accustomed to churches, and had been so long at work in this church for the last two days, that the building had lost to them much of its sacredness, and they were almost as irreverent as though they were two curates.

      “I am so glad she has gone,” said Lily. “We shall have to stop here for the next hour, as Gregory won’t know what to take away and what to leave. I was so afraid she was going to stop and see us off the premises.”

      “I don’t know why you should dislike her.”

      “I don’t dislike her. I like her very well,” said Lily Dale. “But don’t you feel that there are people whom one knows very intimately, who are really friends,—for whom if they were dying one would grieve, whom if they were in misfortune one would go far to help, but with whom for all that one can have no sympathy. And yet they are so near to one that they know all the events of one’s life, and are justified by unquestioned friendship in talking about things which should never be mentioned except where sympathy exists.”

      “Yes; I understand that.”

      “Everybody understands it who has been unhappy. That woman sometimes says things to me that make me wish,—wish that they’d make him bishop of Patagonia. And yet she does it all in friendship, and mamma says that she is quite right.”

      “I liked her for standing up for her husband.”

      “But he does go to sleep,—and then he scratches his nose to show that he’s awake. I shouldn’t have said it, only she is always hinting at uncle Christopher. Uncle Christopher certainly does go to sleep when Mr. Boyce preaches, and he hasn’t studied any scientific little movements during his slumbers to make the people believe that he’s all alive. I gave him a hint one day, and he got so angry with me!”

      “I shouldn’t have thought he could have been angry with you. It seems to me from what you say that you may do whatever you please with him.”

      “He is very good to me. If you knew it all,—if you could understand how good he has been! I’ll try and tell you some day. It is not what he has done that makes me love him so,—but what he has thoroughly understood, and what, so understanding, he has not done, and what he has not said. It is a case of sympathy. If ever there was a gentleman uncle Christopher is one. And I used to dislike him so, at one time!”

      “And why?”

      “Chiefly because he would make me wear brown frocks when I wanted to have them pink or green. And he kept me for six months from having them long, and up to this day he scolds me if there is half an inch on the ground for him to tread upon.”

      “I shouldn’t mind that if I were you.”

      “I don’t,—not now. But it used to be serious when I was a young girl. And we thought, Bell and I, that he was cross to mamma. He and mamma didn’t agree at first, you know, as they do now. It is quite true that he did dislike mamma when we first came here.”

      “I can’t think how anybody could ever dislike Mrs. Dale.”

      “But he did. And then he wanted to make up a marriage between Bell and my cousin Bernard. But neither of them cared a bit for the other, and then he used to scold them,—and then,—and then,—and then—Oh, he was so good to me! Here’s Gregory at last. Gregory, we’ve been waiting this hour and a half.”

      “It ain’t ten minutes since Hopkins let me come with the barrows, miss.”

      “Then Hopkins is a traitor. Never mind. You’d better begin now,—up СКАЧАТЬ