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A few weeks after the famous fight of Waterloo, and after the Gazette had made known to her the promotion and gallantry of that distinguished officer, the Dieppe packet brought over to Miss Crawley at Brighton, a box containing presents, and a dutiful letter, from the Colonel her nephew.
Mr Smillie went over to his mother's at Barchester for Christmas, and took part of the cathedral duty, and we had Mr Spooner over here in his place. So Mr Smillie of course heard all about it. Only fancy, poor Mr Crawley walking all the way from Hogglestock to Barchester and back; and I am told he hardly had a shoe to his foot! Is it not a shame, Mr Robarts?"
Was he giving up his pulpit to a stranger for any reason less cogent than one which made it absolutely imperative on him to be silent in that church which had so long been his own? "Just as you please," said Mr Thumble. "Only it's rather hard lines to have to do it all myself after coming all the way from Barchester this morning." To this Mr Crawley condescended to make no reply whatever.
Now I judge this ought to go to the preacher or, if he aint round, to the young lady." So saying, Ike, without another glance at the disappointed Crawley, strode away with the letter to find Marion. He found her busy in the school. She read the letter, looked at Ike with white face and wide-open eyes, read it a second time, and said, "He wants Mr. Macgregor, quick and me. He is ill.
"Come," said Meadows sternly, "no more of this folly," and he laid his iron grasp on Crawley. "Mercy! mercy! think of me of your faithful servant, who has risked his life and stuck at nothing for you. How ungrateful great men are!" "Ungrateful! Crawley! Can you look me in the face and say that?" "Never till now, but now I can;" and Crawley rose to his feet and faced the great man.
"How happy you will be to see your darling little boy again!" Lady Crawley said, taking leave of her kinswoman. "Oh so happy!" said Rebecca, throwing up the green eyes. She was immensely happy to be free of the place, and yet loath to go. Queen's Crawley was abominably stupid, and yet the air there was somehow purer than that which she had been accustomed to breathe.
The accommodation had been refused to the man at first, but when he presented the cheque the second day, bearing Mr Crawley's name on the back of it, together with a note from Mr Crawley himself, the money had been given for it; and the identical notes so paid had been given to Fletcher, the butcher, on the next day by Mrs Crawley.
After reading this letter, Mrs Arabin could not wait in town for her husband, even though he was expected in two days, and though she had been told that her presence at Barchester was not immediately required on behalf of Mr Crawley. But during that one day she kept her promise to John Eames by going to Lily Dale.
"Mamma," said Jane, as they sat at their dinner, "such a sermon I am sure was never heard in Hogglestock before. Indeed, you can hardly call it a sermon. It was downright nonsense." "My dear," said Mr Crawley energetically, "keep your criticisms for matters that are profane; then, though they be childish and silly, they may at least be innocent. Be critical on Euripides, if you must be critical."
She would not have spoken but that she perceived that Lady Lufton had completed her appeal, and that Mrs Crawley did not seem prepared to answer it. "You have done so much to help us," said Mrs Crawley. "The things you have sent us have been very serviceable." "But we mean something more than that," said Lady Lufton. "I do not know what there is more," said Mrs Crawley.
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