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

lap while she was rocking another who lay in a cradle at her feet. Mr. Crawley, in the meanwhile, had risen from his seat with his finger between the leaves of an old grammar out of which he had been teaching his two elder children. The whole Crawley family was thus before them when Mrs. Robarts and Lucy entered the sitting-room.

“This is my sister-in-law, Lucy,” said Mrs. Robarts. “Pray don’t move now, Mrs. Crawley; or if you do, let me take baby.” And she put out her arms and took the infant into them, making him quite at home there; for she had work of this kind of her own, at home, which she by no means neglected, though the attendance of nurses was more plentiful with her than at Hogglestock.

Mrs. Crawley did get up, and told Lucy that she was glad to see her, and Mr. Crawley came forward, grammar in hand, looking humble and meek. Could we have looked into the innermost spirit of him and his life’s partner, we should have seen that mixed with the pride of his poverty there was some feeling of disgrace that he was poor, but that with her, regarding this matter, there was neither pride nor shame. The realities of life had become so stern to her that the outward aspects of them were as nothing. She would have liked a new gown because it would have been useful; but it would have been nothing to her if all the county knew that the one in which she went to church had been turned three times. It galled him, however, to think that he and his were so poorly dressed.

“I am afraid you can hardly find a chair, Miss Robarts,” said Mr. Crawley.

“Oh, yes; there is nothing here but this young gentleman’s library,” said Lucy, moving a pile of ragged, coverless books on to the table. “I hope he’ll forgive me for moving them.”

“They are not Bob’s⁠—at least, not the most of them⁠—but mine,” said the girl.

“But some of them are mine,” said the boy; “ain’t they, Grace?”

“And are you a great scholar?” asked Lucy, drawing the child to her.

“I don’t know,” said Grace, with a sheepish face. “I am in Greek Delectus and the irregular verbs.”

“Greek Delectus and the irregular verbs!” And Lucy put up her hands with astonishment.

“And she knows an ode of Horace all by heart,” said Bob.

“An ode of Horace!” said Lucy, still holding the young shamefaced female prodigy close to her knees.

“It is all that I can give them,” said Mr. Crawley, apologetically. “A little scholarship is the only fortune that has come in my way, and I endeavour to share that with my children.”

“I believe men say that it is the best fortune any of us can have,” said Lucy, thinking, however, in her own mind, that Horace and the irregular Greek verbs savoured too much of precocious forcing in a young lady of nine years old. But, nevertheless, Grace was a pretty, simple-looking girl, and clung to her ally closely, and seemed to like being fondled. So that Lucy anxiously wished that Mr. Crawley could be got rid of and the presents produced.

“I hope you have left Mr. Robarts quite well,” said Mr. Crawley, with a stiff, ceremonial voice, differing very much from that in which he had so energetically addressed his brother clergyman when they were alone together in the study at Framley.

“He is quite well, thank you. I suppose you have heard of his good fortune?”

“Yes; I have heard of it,” said Mr. Crawley, gravely. “I hope that his promotion may tend in every way to his advantage here and hereafter.”

It seemed, however, to be manifest from the manner in which he expressed his kind wishes, that his hopes and expectations did not go hand-in-hand together.

“By the by, he desired us to say that he will call here tomorrow; at about eleven, didn’t he say, Fanny?”

“Yes; he wishes to see you about some parish business, I think,” said Mrs. Robarts, looking up for a moment from the anxious discussion in which she was already engaged with Mrs. Crawley on nursery matters.

“Pray tell him,” said Mr. Crawley, “that I shall be happy to see him; though, perhaps, now that new duties have been thrown upon him, it will be better that I should visit him at Framley.”

“His new duties do not disturb him much as yet,” said Lucy. “And his riding over here will be no trouble to him.”

“Yes; there he has the advantage over me. I unfortunately have no horse.”

And then Lucy began petting the little boy, and by degrees slipped a small bag of gingerbread-nuts out of her muff into his hands. She had not the patience necessary for waiting, as had her sister-in-law.

The boy took the bag, peeped into it, and then looked up into her face.

“What is that, Bob?” said Mr. Crawley.

“Gingerbread,” faltered Bobby, feeling that a sin had been committed, though, probably, feeling also that he himself could hardly as yet be accounted as deeply guilty.

“Miss Robarts,” said the father, “we are very much obliged to you; but our children are hardly used to such things.”

“I am a lady with a weak mind, Mr. Crawley, and always carry things of this sort about with me when I go to visit children; so you must forgive me, and allow your little boy to accept them.”

“Oh, certainly. Bob, my child, give the bag to your mamma, and she will let you and Grace have them, one at a time.” And then the bag in a solemn manner was carried over to their mother, who, taking it from her son’s hands, laid it high on a bookshelf.

“And not one now?” said Lucy Robarts, very piteously. “Don’t be so hard, Mr. Crawley⁠—not upon them, but upon me. May I not learn whether they are good of their kind?”

“I am sure they are very good; but I think their mamma will prefer their being put by for the present.”

This was very discouraging to Lucy. If one small bag of gingerbread-nuts created so great a difficulty, how was she to