'And do you hear that he has defied the bishop? I do so like him for that. Not but what poor Mrs Proudie is the dearest friend I have in the world, and I'm always fighting a battle with old Lady Lufton on her behalf. But one likes to see one's friends worsted sometimes.'
'I don't quite understand what did happen at Hogglestock on the Sunday,' said the major.
'Some say he had the bishop's chaplain put under the pump. I don't believe that; but there is no doubt that when the poor fellow tried to get into the pulpit, they took him and carried him neck and heels out of the church. But, tell me, Major Grantly, what is to become of the family?'
'Heaven knows!'
'Is it not sad? And that eldest girl is so nice! They tell me that she is perfect--not only in beauty, but in manners and accomplishments.
Everybody says that she talks Greek just as well as she does English, and that she understands philosophy from the top to the bottom.'
'At any rate, she is so good and so lovely that one cannot but pity her.'
'You know her, Major Grantly? By-the-by, of course you do, as you were staying with her at Framley.'
'Yes, I know her.'
'What is to become of her? I'm going your way. You might as well get into the carriage, and I'll drive you home. If he is sent to prison--and they say he must be sent to prison--what is to become of them?' Then Major Grantly did get into the carriage, and, before he got out again, he had told Mrs Thorne the whole story of his love.
She listened to him with the closest attention; only interrupting him now and then with little words, intended to signify her approval. He, as he told his tale, did not look her in the face, but sat with his eyes fixed upon her muff. 'And now,' he said, glancing up at her almost for the first time as he finished his speech, 'and now, Mrs Thorne, what am I to do?'
'Marry her, of course,' said she, raising her hand aloft and bringing it down heavily upon is knee as she gave her decisive reply.
'H--sh--h,' he exclaimed, looking back in dismay towards the servants.
'Oh, they never hear anything up there. They're thinking about the last pot of porter they had, or the next they're to get. Deary me, I am so glad! Of course you'll marry her.'
'You forget my father.'
'No, I don't. What has a father to do with it? You're old enough to please yourself without asking your father. Besides, Lord bless me, the archdeacon isn't the man to bear malice. He'll storm and threaten and stop the supplies for a month or so. Then he'll double them, and take your wife to his bosom, and kiss her, and bless her, and all that kind of thing. We all know what parental wrath means in such cases as this.'
'But my sister--'
'As for your sister, don't talk to me about her. I don't care two straws about your sister. You must excuse me, Major Grantly, but Lady Hartletop is really too big for my powers of vision.'
'And Edith--of course, Mrs Thorne, I can't be blind to the fact that in many ways such a marriage would be injurious to her. No man wishes to be connected with a convicted thief.'
'No, Major Grantly; but a man does wish to marry the girl that he loves.
At least, I suppose so. And what man was ever able to give a more touching proof of his affection than you can to now? If I were you, I'd be at Allington before twelve o'clock tomorrow--I would indeed. What does it matter about the trumpery cheque? Everybody knows it was a mistake if he did take it. And surely you would not punish her for that?'
'No--no; but I don't suppose she'd think it a punishment.'
'You go and ask her then. And I'll tell you what. If she hasn't a house of her own to be married from, she shall be married from Chaldicotes. We'll have such a breakfast! And I'll make as much of her as if she were the daughter of my old friend, the bishop himself--I will indeed.'
This was Mrs Thorne's advice. Before it was completed, Major Grantly had been carried half way to Chaldicotes. When he left his impetuous friend he was too prudent to make any promise, but he declared that what she had said should have much weight with him.
'You won't mention it to anybody,' said the Major.
'Certainly not, without your leave,' said Mrs Thorne. 'Don't you know I'm the soul of honour?'
