‘At such a time such reasons should stand for
nothing,’ said the dean.
’And why not now as they always do, and always
must till the power of tailors shall have waned, and
the daughters of Eve shall toil and spin no more?
Like to like is true, and should be held to be true,
of all societies and of all compacts for co-operation
and mutual living. Here, where, if I may venture
to say so, you and I are like to like;—for
the new gloss of your coat;—the dean, as
it happened, had on at the moment a very old coat,
his oldest coat, selected perhaps with some view to
this special visit—’does not obtrude
itself in my household, as would be the threadbare
texture of mine in yours;—I can open my
mouth to you and converse with you at my ease; you
are now to me that Frank Arabin who has so comforted
me and so often confuted me; whom I may perhaps on
occasion have confuted—and perhaps have
comforted. But were I sitting with you in your
library in Barchester, my threadbare coat would be
too much for me. I should be silent, if not sullen.
I should feel the weight of all my poverty, and the
greater weight of all your wealth. For my children
let them go. I have come to know that they will
be better from me.’
‘Papa!’ said Jane.
‘Papa does not mean it,’ said Grace, coming
up to him and standing close to him.
There was silence amongst them for a few moments,
and then the master of the house shook himself—literally
shook himself, till he had shaken off the cloud.
He had taken Grace by the hand, and thrusting out the
other arm had got it round Jane’s waist.
‘When a man has girls, Arabin,’ he said,
’as you have, but not big girls yet like Grace
here, of course he knows that they will fly away.’
‘I shall not fly away,’ said Jane.
‘I don’t know what papa means,’
said Grace.
Upon the whole the dean thought it the pleasantest
visit he had ever made to Hogglestock, and when he
got home he told his wife that he believed that the
accusation made against Mr Crawley had done him good.
‘I could not say a word in private to her,’
he said, ’but I did promise that you would go
over and see her. On the very next day, Mrs Arabin
went over, and I think that the visit was a comfort
to Mrs Crawley.
CHAPTER LXXX
MISS DEMOLINES DESIRES TO BE A FINGER-POST
John Eames had passed Mrs Thorne in the hall of her
own house almost without noticing her as he took his
departure from Lily Dale. She had told him as
plainly as words could speak that she could not bring
herself to be his wife—and he had believed
her. He had sworn to himself that if he did not
succeed he would never ask again. ’It would
be foolish and unmanly to do so,’ he said to
himself as he rushed along the street towards his
club. No! That romance was over. At
last there had come an end to it! ‘It has
taken a good bit out of me,’ he said, arresting
Copyrights
The Last Chronicle of Barset from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
