Page:Framley Parsonage.djvu/488

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FRAMLEY PARSONAGE.

"They are taking an inventory, cook says; they are in the stable now."

"Very well; they must do as they please; I can not help them."

"Cook says that if they are allowed their meals and some beer, and if nobody takes any thing away, they will be quite civil."

"Civil! But what does it matter? Let them eat and drink what they please, as long as the food lasts. I don't suppose the butcher will send you more."

"But, Mark, there's nothing due to the butcher—only the regular monthly bill."

"Very well; you'll see."

"Oh, Mark, don't look at me in that way. Do not turn away from me. What is to comfort us if we do not cling to each other now?"

"Comfort us! God help you! I wonder, Fanny, that you can bear to stay in the room with me."

"Mark, dearest Mark, my own dear, dearest husband! who is to be true to you if I am not? You shall not turn from me. How can any thing like this make a difference between you and me?" And then she threw her arms round his neck and embraced him.

It was a terrible morning to him, and one of which every incident will dwell on his memory to the last day of his life. He had been so proud in his position—had assumed to himself so prominent a standing—had contrived, by some trick which he had acquired, to carry his head so high above the heads of neighboring parsons. It was this that had taken him among great people, had introduced him to the Duke of Omnium, had procured for him the stall at Barchester. But how was he to carry his head now? What would the Arabins and Grantlys say? How would the bishop sneer at him, and Mrs. Proudie and her daughters tell of him in all their quarters? How would Crawley look at him—Crawley, who had already once had him on the hip? The stern severity of Crawley's face loomed upon him now. Crawley, with his children half naked, and his wife a drudge, and himself half starved, had never had a bailiff in his house at Hogglestock! And then his own curate, Evans, whom he had patronized, and treated almost as a dependent—how was he to look his curate in the face, and arrange with him for the sacred duties of the next Sunday?