The Last Chronicle of Barset

  CHAPTER LXXIV.

  THE CRAWLEYS ARE INFORMED.

  Major Grantly made an early start, knowing that he had a long day'swork before him. He had written over-night to Mr. Toogood, naming thehour at which he would reach "The Dragon," and was there punctualto the moment. When the attorney came out and got into the opencarriage, while the groom held the steps for him, it was plainto be seen that the respect in which he was held at "The Dragon"was greatly increased. It was already known that he was going toPlumstead that night, and it was partly understood that he wasengaged with the Grantly and Arabin faction in defending Mr. Crawleythe clergyman against the Proudie faction. Dan Stringer, who wasstill at the inn, as he saw his enemy get into the Plumsteadcarriage, felt himself to be one of the palace party, and felt thatif Mrs. Proudie had only lived till after the assizes all this heavytrouble would not have befallen him. The waiter with the dirty napkinstood at the door and bowed, thinking perhaps that as the Proudieparty was going down in Barchester, it might be as well to be civilto Mr. Toogood. The days of the Stringers were probably drawing to aclose at "The Dragon of Wantly," and there was no knowing who mightbe the new landlord.

  Henry Grantly and the lawyer found very little to say to each otheron their long way out to Hogglestock. They were thinking, probably,much of the coming interview, and hardly knew how to expresstheir thoughts to each other. "I will not take the carriage up tothe house," said the major, as they were entering the parish ofHogglestock; "particularly as the man must feed the horses." So theygot out at a farmhouse about half a mile from the church, where theoffence of the carriage and livery-servant would be well out ofMr. Crawley's sight, and from thence walked towards the parsonage.The church, and the school close to it, lay on their way, and asthey passed by the school door they heard voices within. "I'll bettwopence he's there," said Toogood. "They tell me he's always eitherin one shop or the other. I'll slip in and bring him out." Mr.Toogood had assumed a comfortable air, as though the day's work wasto be good pastime, and even made occasional attempts at drollery. Hehad had his jokes about Dan Stringer, and had attempted to describethe absurdities of Mr. Crawley's visit to Bedford Row. All this wouldhave angered the major, had he not seen that it was assumed to coversomething below of which Mr. Toogood was a little ashamed, but ofwhich, as the major thought, Mr. Toogood had no cause to be ashamed.When, therefore, Toogood proposed to go into the school and bringMr. Crawley out, as though the telling of their story would be theeasiest thing in the world, the major did not stop him. Indeed hehad no plan of his own ready. His mind was too intent on the tragedywhich had occurred, and which was now to be brought to a close, toenable him to form any plan as to the best way of getting up the lastscene. So Mr. Toogood, with quick and easy steps, entered the school,leaving the major still standing in the road. Mr. Crawley was in theschool;--as was also Jane Crawley. "So here you are," said Toogood."That's fortunate. I hope I find you pretty well?"

  "If I am not mistaken in the identity, my wife's relative, Mr.Toogood?" said Mr. Crawley, stepping down from his humble desk.

  "Just so, my friend," said Toogood, with his hand extended, "just so;and there's another gentleman outside who wants to have a word withyou also. Perhaps you won't mind stepping out. These are the youngHogglestockians; are they?"

  "These are the young Hogglestockians, are they?"]

  The young Hogglestockians stared at him, and so did Jane. Jane, whohad before heard of him, did not like him at first sight, seeingthat her father was clearly displeased by the tone of the visitor'saddress. Mr. Crawley was displeased. There was a familiarity aboutMr. Toogood which made him sore, as having been exhibited before hispupils. "If you will be pleased to step out, sir, I will follow you,"he said, waving his hand towards the door. "Jane, my dear, if youwill remain with the children, I will return to you presently. BobbyStudge has failed in saying his Belief. You had better set him onagain from the beginning. Now, Mr. Toogood." And again he waved withhis hand towards the door.

  "So that's my young cousin, is it?" said Toogood, stretching over andjust managing to touch Jane's fingers,--of which act of touching Janewas very chary. Then he went forth, and Mr. Crawley followed him.There was the major standing in the road, and Toogood was anxious tobe the first to communicate the good news. It was the only reward hehad proposed to himself for the money he had expended and the time hehad lost and the trouble he had taken. "It's all right, old fellow,"he said, clapping his hand on Crawley's shoulder. "We've got theright sow by the ear at last. We know all about it." Mr. Crawleycould hardly remember the time when he had been called an old fellowlast, and now he did not like it; nor, in the confusion of his mind,could he understand the allusion to the right sow. He supposed thatMr. Toogood had come to him about his trial, but it did not occur tohim that the lawyer might be bringing him news which might make thetrial altogether unnecessary. "If my eyes are not mistaken, there ismy friend, Major Grantly," said Mr. Crawley.

  "There he is, as large as life," said Toogood. "But stop a momentbefore you go to him, and give me your hand. I must have the firstshake of it." Hereupon Crawley extended his hand. "That's right. Andnow let me tell you we know all about the cheque,--Soames's cheque.We know where you got it. We know who stole it. We know how it cameto the person who gave it to you. It's all very well talking, butwhen you're in trouble always go to a lawyer."

  By this time Mr. Crawley was looking full into Mr. Toogood's face,and seeing that his cousin's eyes were streaming with tears, beganto get some insight into the man's character, and also some verydim insight into the facts which the man intended to communicate tohimself. "I do not as yet fully understand you, sir," said he, "beingperhaps in such matters somewhat dull of intellect, but it seemeth tome that you are a messenger of glad tidings, whose feet are beautifulupon the mountains."

  "Beautiful!" said Toogood. "By George, I should think they arebeautiful! Don't you hear me tell you that we have found out allabout the cheque, and that you're as right as a trivet?" They werestill on the little causeway leading from the school up to the road,and Henry Grantly was waiting for them at the small wicket-gate. "Mr.Crawley," said the major, "I congratulate you with all my heart. Icould not but accompany my friend, Mr. Toogood, when he brought youthis good news."

  "I do not even yet altogether comprehend what has been told to me,"said Crawley, now standing out on the road between the other two men."I am doubtless dull,--very dull. May I beg some clearer word ofexplanation before I ask you to go with me to my wife?"

  "The cheque was given to you by my aunt Eleanor."

  "Your aunt Eleanor!" said Crawley, now altogether in the clouds. Whowas the major's aunt Eleanor? Though he had, no doubt, at differenttimes heard all the circumstances of the connection, he had neverrealized the fact that his daughter's lover was the nephew of his oldfriend, Arabin.

  "Yes; by my aunt, Mrs. Arabin."

  "She put it into the envelope with the notes," saidToogood;--"slipped it in without saying a word to any one. I neverheard of a woman doing such a mad thing in my life before. If she haddied, or if we hadn't caught her, where should we all have been? Notbut what I think I should have run Dan Stringer to ground too, andworked it out of him."

  "Then, after all, it was given to me by the dean?" said Crawley,drawing himself up.

  "It was in the envelope, but the dean did not know it," said themajor.

  "Gentlemen," said Mr. Crawley, "I was sure of it. I knew it. Weak asmy mind may be,--and at times it is very weak,--I was certain thatI could not have erred in such a matter. The more I struggled withmy memory, the more fixed with me became the fact,--which I hadforgotten but for a moment,--that the document had formed a part ofthat small packet handed to me by the dean. But look you, sirs,--bearwith me yet for a moment. I said that it was so, and the dean deniedit."

  "The dean did not know it, man," said Toogood, almost in a passion.

  "Bear with me yet awhile. So far have I been from misdoubting thedean,--whom I have long known to be in all things a true and honestge
ntleman,--that I postponed the elaborated result of my own memoryto his word. And I felt myself the more constrained to do this,because, in a moment of forgetfulness, in the wantonness ofinconsiderate haste, with wicked thoughtlessness, I had allowedmyself to make a false statement,--unwittingly false, indeed,nathless very false, unpardonably false. I had declared, withoutthinking, that the money had come to me from the hands of Mr. Soames,thereby seeming to cast a reflection upon that gentleman. When I hadbeen guilty of so great a blunder, of so gross a violation of thatordinary care which should govern all words between man and man,especially when any question of money may be in doubt,--how could Iexpect that any one should accept my statement when contravened bythat made by the dean? How, in such an embarrassment, could I believemy own memory? Gentlemen, I did not believe my own memory. Though allthe little circumstances of that envelope, with its rich but perilousfreightage, came back upon me from time to time with an exactnessthat has appeared to me to be almost marvellous, yet I have toldmyself that it was not so! Gentlemen, if you please, we will gointo the house; my wife is there, and should no longer be left insuspense." They passed on in silence for a few steps, till Crawleyspoke again. "Perhaps you will allow me the privilege to be alonewith her for one minute,--but for a minute. Her thanks shall not bedelayed, where thanks are so richly due."

  "Of course," said Toogood, wiping his eyes with a large red bandanahandkerchief. "By all means. We'll take a little walk. Come along,major." The major had turned his face away, and he also was weeping."By George! I never heard such a thing in all my life," said Toogood."I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. I wouldn't, indeed.If I were to tell that up in London, nobody would believe me."

  "I call that man a hero," said Grantly.

  "I don't know about being a hero. I never quite knew what makes ahero, if it isn't having three or four girls dying in love for youat once. But to find a man who was going to let everything in theworld go against him, because he believed another fellow better thanhimself! There's many a chap thinks another man is wool-gathering;but this man has thought he was wool-gathering himself! It's notnatural; and the world wouldn't go on if there were many like that.He's beckoning, and we had better go in."

  Mr. Toogood went first, and the major followed him. When they enteredthe front door they saw the skirt of a woman's dress flitting awaythrough the door at the end of the passage, and on entering the roomto the left they found Mr. Crawley alone. "She has fled, as thoughfrom an enemy," he said, with a little attempt at a laugh; "but Iwill pursue her, and bring her back."

  "No, Crawley, no," said the lawyer. "She's a little upset, and allthat kind of thing. We know what women are. Let her alone."

  "Nay, Mr. Toogood; but then she would be angered with herselfafterwards, and would lack the comfort of having spoken a word ofgratitude. Pardon me, Major Grantly; but I would not have you leaveus till she has seen you. It is as her cousin says. She is somewhatover-excited. But still it will be best that she should see you.Gentlemen, you will excuse me."

  Then he went out to fetch his wife, and while he was away not a wordwas spoken. The major looked out of one window and Mr. Toogood outof the other, and they waited patiently till they heard the comingsteps of the husband and wife. When the door was opened, Mr. Crawleyappeared, leading his wife by the hand. "My dear," he said, "you knowMajor Grantly. This is your cousin, Mr. Toogood. It is well thatyou know him too, and remember his great kindness to us." But Mrs.Crawley could not speak. She could only sink on the sofa, and hideher face, while she strove in vain to repress her sobs. She had beenvery strong through all her husband's troubles,--very strong inbearing for him what he could not bear for himself, and in fightingon his behalf battles in which he was altogether unable to coucha lance; but the endurance of so many troubles, and the greatoverwhelming sorrow at last, had so nearly overpowered her, that shecould not sustain the shock of this turn in their fortunes. "She wasnever like this, sirs, when ill news came to us," said Mr. Crawley,standing somewhat apart from her.

  The major sat himself by her side, and put his hand upon hers, andwhispered some word to her about her daughter. Upon this she threwher arms around him, and kissed his face, and then his hands, andthen looked up into his face through her tears. She murmured some fewwords, or attempted to do so. I doubt whether the major understoodtheir meaning, but he knew very well what was in her heart.

  "And now I think we might as well be moving," said Mr. Toogood. "I'llsee about having the indictment quashed. I'll arrange all that withWalker. It may be necessary that you should go into Barchester thefirst day the judges sit; and if so, I'll come and fetch you. You maybe sure I won't leave the place till it's all square."

  As they were going, Grantly,--speaking now altogether withindifference as to Toogood's presence,--asked Mr. Crawley's leave tobe the bearer of these tidings to his daughter.

  "She can hear it in no tones that can be more grateful to her," saidMr. Crawley.

  "I shall ask her for nothing for myself now," said Grantly. "It wouldbe ungenerous. But hereafter,--in a few days,--when she shall be moreat ease, may I then use your permission--?"

  "Major Grantly," said Mr. Crawley, solemnly, "I respect you sohighly, and esteem you so thoroughly, that I give willingly thatwhich you ask. If my daughter can bring herself to regard you, as awoman should regard her husband, with the love that can worship andcling and be constant, she will, I think, have a fair promise ofworldly happiness. And for you, sir, in giving to you my girl,--ifso it be that she is given to you,--I shall bestow upon you a greattreasure." Had Grace been a king's daughter, with a queen's dowry,the permission to address her could not have been imparted to herlover with a more thorough appreciation of the value of the privilegeconferred.

  "He is a rum 'un," said Mr. Toogood, as they got into the carriagetogether; "but they say he's a very good 'un to go."

  After their departure Jane was sent for, that she might hear thefamily news; and when she expressed some feeling not altogether infavour of Mr. Toogood, Mr. Crawley thus strove to correct her views."He is a man, my dear, who conceals a warm heart, and an activespirit, and healthy sympathies, under an affected jocularity ofmanner, and almost with a touch of assumed vulgarity. But when thejewel itself is good, any fault in the casket may be forgiven."

  "Then, papa, the next time I see him I'll like him,--if I can," saidJane.

  The village of Framley lies slightly off the road from Hogglestockto Barchester,--so much so as to add perhaps a mile to the journeyif the traveller goes by the parsonage gate. On their route toHogglestock our two travellers had passed Framley without visitingthe village, but on the return journey the major asked Mr. Toogood'spermission to make the deviation. "I'm not in a hurry," said Toogood."I never was more comfortable in my life. I'll just light a cigarwhile you go in and see your friends." Toogood lit his cigar, andthe major, getting down from the carriage, entered the parsonage. Itwas his fortune to find Grace alone. Robarts was in Barchester, andMrs. Robarts was across the road, at Lufton Court. "Miss Crawley wascertainly in," the servant told him, and he soon found himself inMiss Crawley's presence.

  "I have only called to tell you the news about your father," said he.

  "What news?"

  "We have just come from Hogglestock,--your cousin, Mr. Toogood, thatis, and myself. They have found out all about the cheque. My aunt,Mrs. Arabin, the dean's wife, you know,--she gave it to your father."

  "Oh, Major Grantly!"

  "It seems so easily settled, does it not?"

  "And is it settled?"

  "Yes; everything. Everything about that." Now he had hold of her handas if he were going. "Good-by. I told your father that I would justcall and tell you."

  "It seems almost more than I can believe."

  "You may believe it; indeed you may." He still held her hand. "Youwill write to your mother I daresay to-night. Tell her I was here.Good-by now."

  "Good-by," she said. Her hand was still in his, as she looked up intohis face.

  "Dear, dear
, dearest Grace! My darling Grace!" Then he took herinto his arms and kissed her, and went his way without another word,feeling that he had kept his word to her father like a gentleman.Grace, when she was left alone, thought that she was the happiestgirl in Christendom. If she could only get to her mother, and telleverything, and be told everything! She had no idea of any promisethat her lover might have made to her father, nor did she makeinquiry of her own thoughts as to his reasons for staying with her soshort a time; but looking back at it all she thought his conduct hadbeen perfect.

  In the meantime the major, with Mr. Toogood, was driven home todinner at Plumstead.