The Complete Chronicles of Barsetshire: (The Warden + Barchester Towers + Doctor Thorne + Framley Parsonage + The Small House at Allington + The Last Chronicle of Barset). Anthony Trollope
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I think him thoroughly vulgar.”
“There you’re wrong,” said Mrs. Proudie; “he’s not vulgar at all; and what is more, he is a soul-stirring, eloquent preacher; but he must be taught to know his place if he is to remain in this house.”
“He has the horridest eyes I ever saw in a man’s head,” said Netta; “and I tell you what, he’s terribly greedy; did you see all the currant pie he ate yesterday?”
When Mr. Slope got home he soon learnt from the bishop, as much from his manner as his words, that Mrs. Proudie’s behests in the matter of the hospital were to be obeyed. Dr. Proudie let fall something as to “this occasion only” and “keeping all affairs about patronage exclusively in his own hands.” But he was quite decided about Mr. Harding; and as Mr. Slope did not wish to have both the prelate and the prelatess against him, he did not at present see that he could do anything but yield.
He merely remarked that he would of course carry out the bishop’s views and that he was quite sure that if the bishop trusted to his own judgement things in the diocese would certainly be well ordered. Mr. Slope knew that if you hit a nail on the head often enough, it will penetrate at last.
He was sitting alone in his room on the same evening when a light knock was made on his door, and before he could answer it the door was opened, and his patroness appeared. He was all smiles in a moment, but so was not she also. She took, however, the chair that was offered to her and thus began her expostulation:
“Mr. Slope, I did not at all approve your conduct the other night with that Italian woman. Anyone would have thought that you were her lover.”
“Good gracious, my dear madam,” said Mr. Slope with a look of horror. “Why, she is a married woman.”
“That’s more than I know,” said Mrs. Proudie; “however she chooses to pass for such. But married or not married, such attention as you paid to her was improper. I cannot believe that you would wish to give offence in my drawing-room, Mr. Slope, but I owe it to myself and my daughters to tell you that I disapprove of your conduct.”
Mr. Slope opened wide his huge protruding eyes and stared out of them with a look of well-feigned surprise. “Why, Mrs. Proudie,” said he, “I did but fetch her something to eat when she said she was hungry.”
“And you have called on her since, continued she, looking at the culprit with the stern look of a detective policeman in the act of declaring himself.
Mr. Slope turned over in his mind whether it would be well for him to tell this termagant at once that he should call on whom he liked and do what he liked, but he remembered that his footing in Barchester was not yet sufficiently firm and that it would be better for him to pacify her.
“I certainly called since at Dr. Stanhope’s house and certainly saw Madame Neroni.”
“Yes, and you saw her alone,” said the episcopal Argus.
“Undoubtedly, I did,” said Mr. Slope, “but that was because nobody else happened to be in the room. Surely it was no fault of mine if the rest of the family were out.”
“Perhaps not, but I assure you, Mr. Slope, you will fall greatly in nay estimation if I find that you allow yourself to be caught by the lures of that woman. I know women better than you do, Mr. Slope, and you may believe me that that signora, as she calls herself, is not a fitting companion for a strict evangelical unmarried young clergyman.”
How Mr. Slope would have liked to laugh at her, had he dared! But he did not dare. So he merely said, “I can assure you, Mrs. Proudie, the lady in question is nothing to me.”
“Well, I hope not, Mr. Slope. But I have considered it my duty to give you this caution. And now there is another thing I feel myself called on to speak about: it is your conduct to the bishop, Mr. Slope.”
“My conduct to the bishop,” said he, now truly surprised and ignorant what the lady alluded to.
“Yes, Mr. Slope, your conduct to the bishop. It is by no means what I would wish to see it.”
“Has the bishop said anything, Mrs. Proudie?”
“No, the bishop has said nothing. He probably thinks that any remarks on the matter will come better from me, who first introduced you to his lordship’s notice. The fact is, Mr. Slope, you are a little inclined to take too much upon yourself.”
An angry spot showed itself on Mr. Slope’s cheeks, and it was with difficulty that he controlled himself. But he did do so and sat quite silent while the lady went on.
“It is the fault of many young men in your position, and therefore the bishop is not inclined at present to resent it. You will, no doubt, soon learn what is required from you and what is not. If you will take my advice, however, you will be careful not to obtrude advice upon the bishop in any matter touching patronage. If his lordship wants advice, he knows where to look for it.” And then having added to her counsel a string of platitudes as to what was desirable and what not desirable in the conduct of a strictly evangelical unmarried young clergyman, Mrs. Proudie retreated, leaving the chaplain to his thoughts.
The upshot of his thoughts was this, that there certainly was not room in the diocese for the energies of both himself and Mrs. Proudie, and that it behoved him quickly to ascertain whether his energies or hers were to prevail.
CHAPTER XVIII
The Widow’s Persecution
Early on the following morning Mr. Slope was summoned to the bishop’s dressing-room, and went there fully expecting that he should find his lordship very indignant and spirited up by his wife to repeat the rebuke which she had administered on the previous day. Mr. Slope had resolved that at any rate from him he would not stand it and entered the dressing-room in rather a combative disposition, but he found the bishop in the most placid and gentlest of humours. His lordship complained of’ being rather unwell, had a slight headache, and was not quite the thing in his stomach; but there was nothing the matter with his temper.
“Oh, Slope,” said he, taking the chaplain’s proffered hand, “Archdeacon Grantly is to call on me this morning, and I really am not fit to see him. I fear I must trouble you to see him for me;” and then Dr. Proudie proceeded to explain what it was that must be said to Dr. Grantly. He was to be told in fact in the civilest words in which the tidings could be conveyed that Mr. Harding having refused the wardenship, the appointment had been offered to Mr. Quiverful and accepted by him.
Mr. Slope again pointed out to his patron that he thought he was perhaps not quite wise in his decision, and this he did sotto voce. But even with this precaution it was not safe to say much, and during the little that he did say, the bishop made a very slight, but still a very ominous gesture with his thumb towards the door which opened from his dressing-room to some inner sanctuary. Mr. Slope at once took the hint and said no more, but he perceived that there was to be confidence between him and his patron, that the league desired by him was to be made, and that this appointment of Mr. Quiverful was to be the last sacrifice offered on the altar of conjugal obedience. All this Mr. Slope read in the slight motion of the bishop’s thumb, and he read it correctly. There was no need of parchments and seals, of attestations, explanations, and professions. The bargain was understood between them, and Mr. Slope gave the bishop his hand upon it The bishop understood the little extra squeeze, and an intelligible gleam of assent twinkled in his eye.
“Pray be civil to the archdeacon, Mr. Slope,” said he out loud, ‘but make him quite understand that in this matter Mr. Harding has put it out of my power to oblige him.”
It would be a calumny on Mrs. Proudie to suggest that she was sitting in her bedroom with her ear at the keyhole during this interview. She had within her a spirit of decorum which prevented her from descending to such baseness. To put her ear to a keyhole, or to listen at a chink, was a trick for a housemaid. Mrs. Proudie knew this and therefore did