The Last Chronicle of Barset. Anthony Trollope

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Mr. Thumble towards the bishop. “If things go on like this, my lord,” she said, “your authority in the diocese will very soon be worth nothing at all.” It was not often that Mrs. Proudie called her husband my lord, but when she did do so, it was a sign that terrible times had come;—times so terrible that the bishop would know that he must either fight or fly. He would almost endure anything rather than descend into the arena for the purpose of doing battle with his wife, but occasions would come now and again when even the alternative of flight was hardly left to him.

      “But, my dear,—” began the bishop.

      “Am I to understand that this man has professed himself to be altogether indifferent to the bishop’s prohibition?” said Mrs. Proudie, interrupting her husband and addressing Mr. Thumble.

      “Quite so. He seemed to think that the bishop had no lawful power in the matter at all,” said Mr. Thumble.

      “Do you hear that, my lord?” said Mrs. Proudie.

      “Nor have I any,” said the bishop, almost weeping as he spoke.

      “No authority in your own diocese!”

      “None to silence a man merely by my own judgment. I thought, and still think, that it was for this gentleman’s own interest, as well as for the credit of the Church, that some provision should be made for his duties during his present,—present—difficulties.”

      “Difficulties indeed! Everybody knows that the man has been a thief.”

      “No, my dear; I do not know it.”

      “You never know anything, bishop.”

      “I mean to say that I do not know it officially. Of course I have heard the sad story; and though I hope it may not be the—”

      “There is no doubt about its truth. All the world knows it. He has stolen twenty pounds, and yet he is to be allowed to desecrate the Church, and imperil the souls of the people!” The bishop got up from his chair and began to walk backwards and forwards through the room with short quick steps. “It only wants five days to Christmas Day,” continued Mrs. Proudie, “and something must be done at once. I say nothing as to the propriety or impropriety of his being out on bail, as it is no affair of ours. When I heard that he had been bailed by a beneficed clergyman of this diocese, of course I knew where to look for the man who would act with so much impropriety. Of course I was not surprised when I found that that person belonged to Framley. But, as I have said before, that is no business of ours. I hope, Mr. Thumble, that the bishop will never be found interfering with the ordinary laws of the land. I am very sure that he will never do so by my advice. But when there comes a question of inhibiting a clergyman who has committed himself as this clergyman unfortunately has done, then I say that that clergyman ought to be inhibited.” The bishop walked up and down the room throughout the whole of this speech, but gradually his steps became quicker, and his turns became shorter. “And now here is Christmas Day upon us, and what is to be done?” With these words Mrs. Proudie finished her speech.

      “Mr. Thumble,” said the bishop, “perhaps you had better now retire. I am very sorry that you should have had so thankless and so disagreeable a task.”

      “Why should Mr. Thumble retire?” asked Mrs. Proudie.

      “I think it better,” said the bishop. “Mr. Thumble, good night.” Then Mr. Thumble did retire, and Mrs. Proudie stood forth in her full panoply of armour, silent and awful, with her helmet erect, and vouchsafed no recognition whatever of the parting salutation with which Mr. Thumble greeted her. “My dear, the truth is, you do not understand the matter,” said the bishop as soon as the door was closed. “You do not know how limited is my power.”

      “Bishop, I understand it a great deal better than some people; and I understand also what is due to myself and the manner in which I ought to be treated by you in the presence of the subordinate clergy of the diocese. I shall not, however, remain here to be insulted either in the presence or in the absence of any one.” Then the conquered amazon collected together the weapons which she had laid upon the table, and took her departure with majestic step, and not without the clang of arms. The bishop, when he was left alone, enjoyed for a few moments the triumph of his victory.

      But then he was left so very much alone! When he looked round about him upon his solitude after the departure of his wife, and remembered that he should not see her again till he should encounter her on ground that was all her own, he regretted his own success, and was tempted to follow her and to apologize. He was unable to do anything alone. He would not even know how to get his tea, as the very servants would ask questions, if he were to do so unaccustomed a thing as to order it to be brought up to him in his solitude. They would tell him that Mrs. Proudie was having tea in her little sitting-room upstairs, or else that the things were laid in the drawing-room. He did wander forth to the latter apartment, hoping that he might find his wife there; but the drawing-room was dark and deserted, and so he wandered back again. It was a grand thing certainly to have triumphed over his wife, and there was a crumb of comfort in the thought that he had vindicated himself before Mr. Thumble; but the general result was not comforting, and he knew from of old how shortlived his triumph would be.

      But wretched as he was during that evening he did employ himself with some energy. After much thought he resolved that he would again write to Mr. Crawley, and summon him to appear at the palace. In doing this he would at any rate be doing something. There would be action. And though Mr. Crawley would, as he thought, decline to obey the order, something would be gained even by that disobedience. So he wrote his summons,—sitting very comfortless and all alone on that Sunday evening,—dating his letter, however, for the following day:—

      Palace, December 20, 186––.

      Reverend Sir,

      I have just heard from Mr. Thumble that you have declined to accede to the advice which I thought it my duty to tender to you as the bishop who has been set over you by the Church, and that you yesterday insisted on what you believed to be your right, to administer the services in the parish church of Hogglestock. This has occasioned me the deepest regret. It is, I think, unavailing that I should further write to you my mind upon the subject, as I possess such strong evidence that my written word will not be respected by you. I have, therefore, no alternative now but to invite you to come to me here; and this I do, hoping that I may induce you to listen to that authority which I cannot but suppose you acknowledge to be vested in the office which I hold.

      I shall be glad to see you on tomorrow, Tuesday, as near the hour of two as you can make it convenient to yourself to be here, and I will take care to order that refreshment shall be provided for yourself and your horse.

      I am, Reverend Sir,

       &c. &c. &c.,

       Thos. Barnum.

      “My dear,” he said, when he did again encounter his wife that night, “I have written to Mr. Crawley, and I thought I might as well bring up the copy of my letter.”

      “I wash my hands of the whole affair,” said Mrs. Proudie—”of the whole affair!”

      “But you will look at the letter?”

      “Certainly not. Why should I look at the letter? My word goes for nothing. I have done what I could, but in vain. Now let us see how you will manage it yourself.”

      The bishop did not pass a comfortable night; but in the morning his wife did read his letter, and after that things went a little smoother СКАЧАТЬ