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Updated: May 17, 2025
Mr Arabin, when he saw Eleanor, could not succeed in looking or in speaking as though he knew nothing of all this. He could not be cheerful and positive and contradictory with her, as was his wont. He had not been two minutes in the room before he felt that he had done wrong in return; and the moment he heard her voice, he thoroughly wished himself back at St Ewold's.
"Of foxes with two legs our friend is speaking, without doubt," said the vicar of St Ewold's, with an attempt at grim pleasantry. "Of them we have none at Plumstead. No, I was speaking of the dear old fellow with the brush. Pass the bottle, Mr Crawley. Won't you fill your glass?" Mr Crawley passed the bottle, but would not fill his glass.
He felt that he was disgracing himself in his own eyes, that he had been idling his time and neglecting the high duties which he had taken upon himself to perform. He should have spent the afternoon among the poor at St Ewold's, instead of wandering about Plumstead, an ancient love-lorn swain, dejected and sighing, full of imaginary sorrows and Wertherian grief.
On the other side Jack found himself surrounded by walls of books, which formed a parallelogram around a great deal table littered with magazines and papers. Here, indeed, the printed word might riot as it pleased in the joyous variety and chaos of that truly omnivorous reader of herbivorous capacity. Out of the library Jack passed into Jasper Ewold's bedroom.
That paragon of a clergyman, whom he had bestowed upon St Ewold's, that college friend of whom he had boasted so loudly, that ecclesiastical knight before whose lance Mr Slope was to fall and bite the dust, that worthy bulwark of the church as it should be, that honoured representative of Oxford's best spirit, was so at least his wife had told him half a dozen times misconducting himself!
And there was yet another ground of misery which cut him to the quick nearly as closely as either of the others. That paragon of a clergyman whom he had bestowed upon St. Ewold's, that college friend of whom he had boasted so loudly, that ecclesiastical knight before whose lance Mr.
"She has never taken up any fad," said Mrs Grantly, who now mounted almost to wrath in defence of her future daughter-in-law, "and you are wrong to say that she has. She has behaved beautifully; as nobody knows better than you do." Then the archdeacon gave way so far as to promise that St Ewold's should be offered to Mr Crawley as soon as Grace Crawley was in truth engaged to Henry Grantly.
And so having done no good at St Ewold's, he rode back much earlier than was usual with him, instigated, by some inward unacknowledged hope that he might see Mrs Bold before she left. Eleanor had not passed a pleasant morning. She was irritated with every one, and not least with herself. She felt that she had been hardly used, but she felt also that she had not played her own cards well.
Here we can build a civilization which neither roasts us in summer nor freezes us in winter." There was a fluid magnetism in the rush of Jasper Ewold's junketing verbiage which carried the listener on the bosom of a pleasant stream. Jack was suddenly reminded that it must be very late and he had far overstayed the retiring hour of the desert, where the Eternal Painter commands early rising.
These Plumstead walks were pleasant enough, if one could have but heart's ease; but without that, the dull dead stones of Oxford were far preferable; and St Ewold's too; Mrs Bold, I am beginning to think that I mistook myself when I came hither. A Romish priest now would have escaped all this. Of, Father of heaven! How good for us would it be, if thou couldest vouchsafe to us a certain rule.
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