Framley Parsonage Anthony Trollope (best english novels for beginners .TXT) 📖

her little present to him. I suppose there is no pleasure a mother can have more attractive than giving away her money to an only son.

Lucy’s name was first mentioned at breakfast the next morning. Lord Lufton had made up his mind to attack his mother on the subject early in the morning⁠—before he went up to the parsonage; but as matters turned out Miss Robarts’ doings were necessarily brought under discussion without reference to Lord Lufton’s special aspirations regarding her. The fact of Mrs. Crawley’s illness had been mentioned, and Lady Lufton had stated how it had come to pass that all the Crawleys’ children were at the parsonage.

“I must say that Fanny has behaved excellently,” said Lady Lufton. “It was just what might have been expected from her. And indeed,” she added, speaking in an embarrassed tone, “so has Miss Robarts. Miss Robarts has remained at Hogglestock and nursed Mrs. Crawley through the whole.”

“Remained at Hogglestock⁠—through the fever!” exclaimed his lordship.

“Yes, indeed,” said Lady Lufton.

“And is she there now?”

“Oh, yes; I am not aware that she thinks of leaving just yet.”

“Then I say that it is a great shame⁠—a scandalous shame!”

“But, Ludovic, it was her own doing.”

“Oh, yes; I understand. But why should she be sacrificed? Were there no nurses in the country to be hired, but that she must go and remain there for a month at the bedside of a pestilent fever? There is no justice in it.”

“Justice, Ludovic? I don’t know about justice, but there was great Christian charity. Mrs. Crawley has probably owed her life to Miss Robarts.”

“Has she been ill? Is she ill? I insist upon knowing whether she is ill. I shall go over to Hogglestock myself immediately after breakfast.”

To this Lady Lufton made no reply. If Lord Lufton chose to go to Hogglestock she could not prevent him. She thought, however, that it would be much better that he should stay away. He would be quite as open to the infection as Lucy Robarts; and, moreover, Mrs. Crawley’s bedside would be as inconvenient a place as might be selected for any interview between two lovers. Lady Lufton felt at the present moment that she was cruelly treated by circumstances with reference to Miss Robarts. Of course it would have been her part to lessen, if she could do so without injustice, that high idea which her son entertained of the beauty and worth of the young lady; but, unfortunately, she had been compelled to praise her and to load her name with all manner of eulogy. Lady Lufton was essentially a true woman, and not even with the object of carrying out her own views in so important a matter would she be guilty of such deception as she might have practised by simply holding her tongue; but nevertheless she could hardly reconcile herself to the necessity of singing Lucy’s praises.

After breakfast Lady Lufton got up from her chair, but hung about the room without making any show of leaving. In accordance with her usual custom she would have asked her son what he was going to do; but she did not dare so to inquire now. Had he not declared, only a few minutes since, whither he would go? “I suppose I shall see you at lunch?” at last she said.

“At lunch? Well, I don’t know. Look here, mother. What am I to say to Miss Robarts when I see her?” and he leaned with his back against the chimneypiece as he interrogated his mother.

“What are you to say to her, Ludovic?”

“Yes; what am I to say⁠—as coming from you? Am I to tell her that you will receive her as your daughter-in-law?”

“Ludovic, I have explained all that to Miss Robarts herself.”

“Explained what?”

“I have told her that I did not think that such a marriage would make either you or her happy.”

“And why have you told her so? Why have you taken upon yourself to judge for me in such a matter, as though I were a child? Mother, you must unsay what you have said.”

Lord Lufton, as he spoke, looked full into his mother’s face; and he did so, not as though he were begging from her a favour, but issuing to her a command. She stood near him, with one hand on the breakfast-table, gazing at him almost furtively, not quite daring to meet the full view of his eye. There was only one thing on earth which Lady Lufton feared, and that was her son’s displeasure. The sun of her earthly heaven shone upon her through the medium of his existence. If she were driven to quarrel with him, as some ladies of her acquaintance were driven to quarrel with their sons, the world to her would be over. Not but what facts might be so strong as to make it absolutely necessary that she should do this. As some people resolve that, under certain circumstances, they will commit suicide, so she could see that, under certain circumstances, she must consent even to be separated from him. She would not do wrong⁠—not that which she knew to be wrong⁠—even for his sake. If it were necessary that all her happiness should collapse and be crushed in ruin around her, she must endure it, and wait God’s time to relieve her from so dark a world. The light of the sun was very dear to her, but even that might be purchased at too dear a cost.

“I told you before, mother, that my choice was made, and I asked you then to give your consent; you have now had time to think about it, and therefore I have come to ask you again. I have reason to know that there will be no impediment to my marriage if you will frankly hold out your hand to Lucy.”

The matter was altogether in Lady Lufton’s hands, but, fond as she was of power, she absolutely wished that it were not so. Had her son married without asking her and then brought Lucy home as