書蟲6級《巴徹斯特教堂尖塔》11. 新任教士長

11. The new dean

At Plumstead, the archdeacon was in a state of misery. Not only had Mr Quiverful, rather than Mr Harding, been appointed warden of Hiram's Hospital, it also seemed quite possible that Mr Slope would become dean, and marry Eleanor Bold. There was yet another reason for anxiety. Dr Grantly's excellent and respected friend, Francis Arabin, of whose qualities he had boasted so loudly, was misbehaving himself. People were now beginning to talk of his repeated visits to the signora. This was not at all what was expected of the vicar of St Ewold's.

Just as the archdeacon and his wife were discussing these matters, they heard a carriage drive up to the door at high speed.

Whoever can it be, Susan?' said Dr Grantly, as he opened the sitting room door into the hall. 'Why, it's your father!'

It was indeed Mr Harding, bursting to tell his news.

We're very glad to see you, father,' said his daughter. 'I'll go and get your room ready at once.'

Don't go just yet, Susan,' said Mr Harding. 'I have something to tell you. Or shall I wait till after dinner?'

If you have anything important to tell us,' said the archdeacon, 'I beg you, let us hear it at once. Has Eleanor gone off with Slope?'

No, she has not,' said Mr Harding, looking displeased.

Has Slope been made dean?'

No, he has not, but –'

But what?' said the archdeacon impatiently.

They have offered it to me,' said Mr Harding modestly.

Good heavens!' cried the archdeacon.

My dear, dear father!' cried Mrs Grantly and threw her arms round her father's neck.

And after they had both congratulated Mr Harding, they all sat down to dinner. The archdeacon's joy was uncontrollable. It was not until they had finished eating and the servants had left, that Mr Harding found the opportunity to say, rather nervously, 'It's very kind of the prime minister, and I'm most grateful for the offer, but I'm afraid I can't accept it.'

The archdeacon was so shocked that he almost dropped his glass. Why would a vicar earning less than ￡200 a year not wish to gain one of the most desirable positions in the Church, at an income of ￡1200? But Mr Harding explained to him and Susan, over and over again, that he would be incapable of doing the job properly, and that at his age he did not want any sort of promotion. In spite of their protests, he remained firm.

This was another disappointment for the archdeacon. Nothing would have suited him better than to have his father-in-law as dean, but it was impossible to change Mr Harding's mind.

At Ullathorne, the squire's sister had also heard the stories about Mr Arabin and the signora. Miss Thorne was of the opinion that all vicars should be married, in order to avoid this kind of unpleasantness, and with her usual good-hearted energy she set to work to find a wife for Mr Arabin. In looking through the list of her unmarried friends who might possibly want a husband, and who had the right qualities to be a vicar's wife, she could think of no one more suitable than Mrs Bold. So, losing no time, she invited Mrs Bold and her small son to come and stay for a month or two at Ullathorne. 'We'll have Mr Arabin too,' said Miss Thorne to herself, 'and in twelve or eighteen months' time, if all goes well, Mrs Bold will take up residence at St Ewold's. 'And the kind-hearted lady praised herself for her matchmaking.

Eleanor was a little surprised at the invitation, but accepted it, and arrived at Ullathorne the day before her father was offered the post of dean. Since her interview with Madeline, she had done little else but think about Mr Arabin, and she was hoping to see him at Ullathorne. If only they could meet, and speak to each other!

And they did meet there. Mr Arabin, Eleanor discovered, was also staying with the Thornes. He arrived during the morning and found the two ladies sewing in the sitting room. Miss Thorne had no idea that her immediate absence would be a blessing, and remained talking to her guests until lunch-time. After lunch Mr Arabin returned to his church duties, and Eleanor and Miss Thorne took a walk together.

When they returned, Eleanor was left alone in the sitting room, and just as it was getting dark, Mr Arabin came in. It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, and Eleanor was sitting near the window to get the last of the daylight for her reading. Mr Arabin stood with his back to the fire and his hands in his pockets, making a few ordinary remarks about the weather.

The sky does look lovely,' said Eleanor.

He could not see the sky from where he was standing, so he had to go close to her. 'Very lovely,' said he, modestly keeping at a distance to avoid touching her dress. Then he seemed to have nothing further to say, so he returned to the fire.

Eleanor could not think what to say, and, moreover, found she could not prevent herself from crying. She hoped he would not notice. He was not looking at her, so it did not seem likely.

Do you like Ullathorne?' he asked, from his safely distant position. 'I don't mean Mr and Miss Thorne, I mean the house. There is something about old-fashioned houses and gardens that especially pleases me.'

I like everything old-fashioned,' said Eleanor. 'Old-fashioned things are so much more honest.'

I hardly know whether to agree with you or not.'

I think the world grows more ambitious and selfish every day,' said Eleanor.

That is because you see more of it than when you were younger. But we should not judge by what we see – we see so very, very little.' There was an uncomfortable pause while Mr Arabin turned over the coins in his pockets. Then he started walking uneasily up and down the room.

Eleanor sat silently with her face bent over her book. She was afraid her tears would overcome her, and was preparing to escape from the room, when suddenly Mr Arabin stopped walking and turned to face her.

Mrs Bold,' said he, 'I owe you a humble apology for asking you that extremely personal question, about – about a certain gentleman. I had no right to do it.'

Eleanor was most anxious to say something polite and encouraging, but did not want to betray her feelings.

Indeed, I was not offended, Mr Arabin.'

Oh, but you were! Quite rightly! I have not forgiven myself, but I hope to hear that you forgive me.'

She could no longer speak calmly, although she still continued to hide her tears. Mr Arabin, after waiting a moment for her reply, was walking towards the door. Rising from her seat, she gently touched his arm and said, 'Oh, Mr Arabin, do not go till I speak to you! I do forgive you. You know that I forgive you.'

He took her hand, and then looked into her face, to read his whole future there, as if written in a book. The eagerness and sadness of his expression moved Eleanor so much that she could not look back at him. She dropped her eyes to the ground, let her tears roll unchecked down her face, and left her hand within his.

Mr Arabin took Eleanor's hand, and then looked into her face.

It was only for a minute that they stood like that, but it was a minute that they would remember for ever. Eleanor was sure now that she was loved. But why did he not speak to her? Could it be that he looked to her to make the first sign? And he, although he knew very little of women, even he knew that he was loved. He had only to ask, and it would all be his own, this inexpressible loveliness, this bright and loving nature which had so attracted him from the first. She must love him! Otherwise she would never allow her hand to remain so long within his own. He had only to ask. Ah, but that was the difficulty!

Mrs Bold...' he said at last, and stopped. 'Eleanor!' he then said, very softly, still lacking a lover's courage, and fearful of giving offence. She looked gently up into his face. 'Eleanor!' he said again, and in a moment he had her in his arms. How this happened, neither of them knew, but there was now a sympathy between them that hardly allowed them to be individuals – they were one and the same – one body, one soul, one life.

Eleanor, my own Eleanor, my own, my wife!' As she shyly looked up at him through her tears, he pressed his lips to her forehead. For the first time in his life, he kissed a woman.

Oh, let me go now,' said she. 'I am too happy to remain – I must be alone.' He let her go, and she rushed out of the room.

Once in the privacy of her bedroom, she was able to sob and cry and laugh, as the hopes and fears and miseries of the last few weeks passed through her mind. What happiness she could now look forward to!

After dinner that evening she told Miss Thorne, in a voice trembling with joy, that she was engaged to Mr Arabin.

Poor Miss Thorne was a little shocked at the speed with which her plan had succeeded. They were not young lovers, but a forty-year-old vicar and a respectable widow, and only a day had been long enough for them to arrange matters, where Miss Thorne had allowed twelve to eighteen months! She was almost disappointed, and, shaking her head regretfully, thought it must be the modern way of doing things. But on the whole she was pleased that her matchmaking had been so successful, and wished Eleanor much happiness.

The next morning Eleanor returned to Barchester, and very soon received a visit from her father. How much each of them had to tell the other! Mr Harding told his daughter about being invited to become dean, and Eleanor told her father about her engagement to Francis Arabin. Mr Harding was quite delighted to hear who his new son-in-law was to be, and was happy to spend most of the morning discussing Mr Arabin's good qualities with Eleanor. However, he refused to say any more about the post of dean, because a new idea had entered his head – why should Mr Arabin not be the new dean?

They were still talking when Eleanor saw the archdeacon's carriage through the window.

Oh my dear,' said her father, 'Dr Grantly said he would come and see you, but I forgot to mention it.'

Eleanor could not, in the first hours of her joy, bring herself to hear the archdeacon's lengthy apologies and congratulations, so she hurried out.

The archdeacon, therefore, found Mr Harding alone when he entered the room.

Is anything the matter with Eleanor?' asked Dr Grantly, thinking that perhaps the truth about Mr Slope had come out.

Well, something is the matter. I wonder if you will be surprised at it. What do you think Mr Arabin has just done?'

Nothing to do with that daughter of Stanhope's, surely?'

No, not that woman,' said Mr Harding, enjoying his little joke and trying not to smile.

Not that woman! Is he going to do anything about any woman? Why can't you speak out if you have anything to say? There's nothing I hate so much as mysteries.'

This must remain confidential at present, archdeacon. You can tell Susan, but no one else.'

Nonsense!' cried the archdeacon angrily. 'You can't have any secret about Arabin that I don't know!'

Only this – he and Eleanor are engaged.'

Arabin! It's impossible! She must be mistaken!'

It took quite a long speech from Mr Harding to convince Dr Grantly that it was not only possible, but true. At first the archdeacon was simply amazed. Then he was disgusted at his own misjudgement of the situation. But finally he began to smile, and expressed great satisfaction with the news. 'Well, well!' said he. 'Good heavens, good heavens!'

And then slowly, gradually and cleverly Mr Harding proposed his own new plan. Why should Mr Arabin not be the new dean? Slowly, gradually and thoughtfully Dr Grantly was persuaded to accept the idea. It would be the perfect solution to their difficulties with the bishop, and, with Arabin as dean, the archdeacon's influence in Barchester would be far greater.

So it was arranged between them that they would travel to London together the following morning, to try to persuade the prime minister to appoint Mr Arabin, instead of Mr Harding.

Mr Slope was in his room at the bishop's palace, when he received a note from his friend Sir Nicholas, informing him that he would not be offered the post of dean. He did not give way to despair, however, but sat down quietly to make a new plan for his future. He counted up his money, and then he wrote a letter to a rich factory-owner's wife in London, who, as he well knew, had entertained and encouraged serious young clergymen in the past.

A few moments later a servant appeared, to ask him to go to the bishop's study at once. Mr Slope waited ten minutes to prove his independence, and then went to the bishop's room. As he had expected, Mrs Proudie was there with her husband.

Mr Slope,' said the bishop, 'I must speak to you about an urgent matter, concerning yourself.'

My lord, if I may express a wish, I would prefer no discussion to take place in the presence of a third person.'

Don't alarm yourself, Mr Slope,' said the lady. 'No discussion is at all necessary. The bishop will only express his own wishes, that is all.'

I will only express my own wishes, that is all,' the bishop repeated. 'No discussion is at all necessary.'

May I ask if I have done anything wrong, my lord?' enquired Mr Slope, looking innocent.

Do you dare to ask the bishop that?' cried Mrs Proudie.

Mrs Proudie, I will not have words with you.'

Ah sir, but you will have words! Why have you had so many words with that Signora Neroni? Disgraceful behaviour! You are no longer wanted by the bishop, sir. Kindly leave his employment and this house as soon as possible!'

My lord,' said Mr Slope, turning his back completely on the lady,' may I have from your own lips any decision you have come to on this matter?'

Certainly, Slope, certainly. Well, you hear what Mrs Proudie says. That is the decision I have come to on the matter.'

If you wish to remain in Barchester,' added Mrs Proudie, 'and will promise never to see that woman again, the bishop will mention your name to Mr Quiverful, who now needs an assistant at Puddingdale. There is an income of ￡50 a year, I believe.'

God forgive you, madam, for the way in which you have treated me,' said Mr Slope. 'As to the bishop, I pity him.' And he left the room to pack his bags, leaving Mrs Proudie victorious.

It is well known, however, that the Slopes of this world fall on their feet like cats. On his return to London he discovered that the factory-owner had died, and the widow needed comforting. Mr Slope was able to comfort her, and soon found himself living in her pleasantly large house, with her fortune at his command.

By using every influential contact they had, Dr Grantly and Mr Harding managed to persuade the prime minister's advisers that Francis Arabin should be dean. It was a happy moment for them both when, on their return to Barchester, they were able to present the prime minister's letter to their friend, appointing him Dean of Barchester. How grateful Eleanor was to her father, for giving up his chance of promotion to his future son-in-law!

A few months later, Mr Arabin married Mrs Bold. The wedding dress, the carriages, the flowers, the reception – everything was paid for by the archdeacon, who could not do enough to show how sorry he was to have doubted Eleanor, and how happy he was to have triumphed over Slope.

Now Eleanor and her husband live in the dean's house in perfect happiness. Mr Harding has gone to live with them there, and spends much of his time teaching little Johnny to sing and play the piano. Another child is expected soon, and Susan Grantly is looking forward to helping her sister with the new baby. Now that Eleanor is also a clergyman's wife, she and Susan get on much better than in the past.

The Stanhopes are living in Italy again. Not long after their return there, the signora received a pretty, but short letter from Mrs Arabin. This was answered by a bright, charming and amusing note, as the signora's letters always were. Here ended the friendship between Eleanor and the Stanhopes.

Dr Proudie is still bishop, but has never attempted to disobey his wife again. He prefers being henpecked to having an uncomfortable domestic life. And Mrs Proudie, now that she is certain of her power, interferes hardly at all in spiritual matters. Dr Grantly and Mr Arabin, whose views on religion are so similar, work together on all church business. So priestly arguments are a thing of the past, now that war is over, and peace has returned to that ancient cathedral city of Barchester.