Chronicles of Barsetshire - Complete Edition (All 6 Books in One Edition). Anthony Trollope
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Harding said he hoped so, but he didn’t at all understand what Sir Abraham meant. Sir Abraham, with all his sharpness, could not have looked into his heart and read his intentions.
‘All over. You need trouble yourself no further about it; of course they must pay the costs, and the absolute expense to you and Dr Grantly will be trifling — that is, compared with what it might have been if it had been continued.’
‘I fear I don’t quite understand you, Sir Abraham.’
‘Don’t you know that their attorneys have noticed us that they have withdrawn the suit?’
Mr Harding explained to the lawyer that he knew nothing of this, although he had heard in a roundabout way that such an intention had been talked of; and he also at length succeeded in making Sir Abraham understand that even this did not satisfy him. The attorney-general stood up, put his hands into his breeches’ pockets, and raised his eyebrows, as Mr Harding proceeded to detail the grievance from which he now wished to rid himself.
‘I know I have no right to trouble you personally with this matter, but as it is of most vital importance to me, as all my happiness is concerned in it, I thought I might venture to seek your advice.’
Sir Abraham bowed, and declared his clients were entitled to the best advice he could give them; particularly a client so respectable in every way as the Warden of Barchester Hospital.
‘A spoken word, Sir Abraham, is often of more value than volumes of written advice. The truth is, I am ill-satisfied with this matter as it stands at present. I do see — I cannot help seeing, that the affairs of the hospital are not arranged according to the will of the founder.’
‘None of such institutions are, Mr Harding, nor can they be; the altered circumstances in which we live do not admit of it.’
‘Quite true — that is quite true; but I can’t see that those altered circumstances give me a right to eight hundred a year. I don’t know whether I ever read John Hiram’s will, but were I to read it now I could not understand it. What I want you, Sir Abraham, to tell me, is this — am I, as warden, legally and distinctly entitled to the proceeds of the property, after the due maintenance of the twelve bedesmen?’
Sir Abraham declared that he couldn’t exactly say in so many words that Mr Harding was legally entitled to, &c., &c., &c., and ended in expressing a strong opinion that it would be madness to raise any further question on the matter, as the suit was to be — nay, was, abandoned. Mr Harding, seated in his chair, began to play a slow tune on an imaginary violoncello.
‘Nay, my dear sir,’ continued the attorney-general, ‘there is no further ground for any question; I don’t see that you have the power of raising it.’
‘I can resign,’ said Mr Harding, slowly playing away with his right hand, as though the bow were beneath the chair in which he was sitting.
‘What! throw it up altogether?’ said the attorney-general, gazing with utter astonishment at his client.
‘Did you see those articles in The Jupiter?’ said Mr Harding, piteously, appealing to the sympathy of the lawyer.
Sir Abraham said he had seen them. This poor little clergyman, cowed into such an act of extreme weakness by a newspaper article, was to Sir Abraham so contemptible an object, that he hardly knew how to talk to him as to a rational being.
‘Hadn’t you better wait,’ said he, ‘till Dr Grantly is in town with you? Wouldn’t it be better to postpone any serious step till you can consult with him?’
Mr Harding declared vehemently that he could not wait, and Sir Abraham began seriously to doubt his sanity.
‘Of course,’ said the latter, ‘if you have private means sufficient for your wants, and if this —’
‘I haven’t a sixpence, Sir Abraham,’ said the warden.
‘God bless me! Why, Mr Harding, how do you mean to live?’
Mr Harding proceeded to explain to the man of law that he meant to keep his precentorship — that was eighty pounds a year; and, also, that he meant to fall back upon his own little living of Crabtree, which was another eighty pounds. That, to be sure, the duties of the two were hardly compatible; but perhaps he might effect an exchange. And then, recollecting that the attorney-general would hardly care to hear how the service of a cathedral church is divided among the minor canons, stopped short in his explanations.
Sir Abraham listened in pitying wonder. ‘I really think, Mr Harding, you had better wait for the archdeacon. This is a most serious step — one for which, in my opinion, there is not the slightest necessity; and, as you have done me the honour of asking my advice, I must implore you to do nothing without the approval of your friends. A man is never the best judge of his own position.’
‘A man is the best judge of what he feels himself. I’d sooner beg my bread till my death than read such another article as those two that have appeared, and feel, as I do, that the writer has truth on his side.’
‘Have you not a daughter, Mr Harding — an unmarried daughter?’
‘I have,’ said he, now standing also, but still playing away on his fiddle with his hand behind his back. ‘I have, Sir Abraham; and she and I are completely agreed on this subject.’
‘Pray excuse me, Mr Harding, if what I say seems impertinent; but surely it is you that should be prudent on her behalf. She is young, and does not know the meaning of living on an income of a hundred and sixty pounds a year. On her account give up this idea. Believe me, it is sheer Quixotism.’
The warden walked away to the window, and then back to his chair; and then, irresolute what to say, took another turn to the window. The attorney-general was really extremely patient, but he was beginning to think that the interview had been long enough.
‘But if this income be not justly mine, what if she and I have both to beg?’ said the warden at last, sharply, and in a voice so different from that he had hitherto used, that Sir Abraham was startled. ‘If so, it would be better to beg.’
‘My dear sir, nobody now questions its justness.’
‘Yes, Sir Abraham, one does question it — the most important of all witnesses against me — I question it myself. My God knows whether or no I love my daughter; but I would sooner that she and I should both beg, than that she should live in comfort on money which is truly the property of the poor. It may seem strange to you, Sir Abraham, it is strange to myself, that I should have been ten years in that happy home, and not have thought of these things till they were so roughly dinned into my ears. I cannot boast of my conscience, when it required the violence of a public newspaper to awaken it; but, now that it is awake, I must obey it. When I came here, I did not know that the suit was withdrawn by Mr Bold, and my object was to beg you to abandon my defence. As there is no action, there can be no defence; but it is, at any rate, as well that you should know that from tomorrow I shall cease to be the warden of the hospital. My friends and I differ on this subject, Sir Abraham, and that adds much to my sorrow; but it cannot be helped.’ And, as he finished what he had to say, he played up such a tune as never before had graced the chambers of any attorney-general. He was standing up, gallantly fronting Sir Abraham, and his right arm passed with bold and rapid sweeps before him, as though he were embracing some huge instrument, which allowed him to stand thus erect; and with the fingers of his left hand he stopped, with preternatural velocity, a multitude of strings, which ranged from the top of his collar to the bottom of the lappet of his coat. Sir Abraham listened and looked in wonder. As he had never before seen Mr Harding, the meaning of these wild gesticulations was lost upon him; but he perceived that the gentleman who had a few minutes since been so subdued as to be unable to speak without hesitation, was now impassioned — nay, almost violent.
‘You’ll sleep on this, Mr Harding, and tomorrow —’
‘I have done more than sleep upon it,’ said the warden; ‘I have lain awake upon it, and that night after night. I found I could not sleep upon it: now I hope to do so.’