The Last Chronicle of Barset | Page 9

had ever loved her daughter dearly, and
had been very proud of that great success in life which Griselda had
achieved; but in late years, the child had become, as a woman, separate
from the mother, and there had arisen not unnaturally, a break of that
close confidence which in early years had existed between them.
Griselda, Marchioness of Hartletop, was more than ever the daughter of
the archdeacon, even though he might never see her. Nothing could rob
him of the honour of such a progeny--nothing, even though there had
been an actual estrangement between them. But it was not so with Mrs
Grantly. Griselda had done very well, and Mrs Grantly had rejoiced;
but she had lost her child. Now the major, who had done well also,
though in a much lesser degree, was still her child, moving in the same
sphere of life with her, still dependent in a great degree upon his
father's bounty, a neighbour in the county, a frequent visitor at the
parsonage, and a visitor who could be received without any of that
trouble that attended the unfrequent comings of Griselda, the
Marchioness, to the home of her youth. And for this reason Mrs
Grantly, terribly put out as she was at the idea of a marriage between
her son and one standing so poorly in the world's esteem as Grace
Crawley, would not have brought forward the matter before her
daughter, had she been left to her own desires. A marchioness in one's
family is a tower of strength, no doubt; but there are counsellors so
strong that we do not wish to trust them, lest in the trusting we
ourselves be overwhelmed by their strength. Now Mrs Grantly was by
no means willing to throw her influence into the hands of her titled
daughter.
But the titled daughter was consulted and gave her advice. On the
occasion of the present visit to Plumstead she had consented to lay her
head for two nights on the parsonage pillows, and on the second

evening her brother the major was to come over from Cosby Lodge to
meet her. Before his coming the affair of Grace Crawley was discussed.
'It would break my heart, Griselda,'said the archdeacon, piteously--'and
your mother's.'
'There is nothing against the girl's character,' said Mrs Grantly, 'and the
father and mother are gentlefolk by birth; but such a marriage for
Henry would be unseemly.'
'To make it worse, there is a terrible story about him,' said the
archdeacon.
'I don't suppose there is much in that,' said Mrs Grantly.
'I can't say. There is no knowing. They told me today in Barchester that
Soames is pressing a case against him.'
'Who is Soames, papa?' asked the marchioness.
'He is Lord Lufton's man of business, my dear.'
'Oh, Lord Lufton's man of business!' There was something of a sneer in
the tone of the lady's voice as she mentioned Lord Lufton's name.
'I am told,' continued the archdeacon, 'that Soames declares the cheque
was taken from a pocket-book which he left by accident in Crawley's
house.'
'You don't mean to say, archdeacon, that you think that Mr Crawley--a
clergyman--stole it!' said Mrs Grantly.
'I don't say anything of the kind, my dear. But supposing Mr Crawley to
be as honest as the sun, you wouldn't wish Henry to marry his
daughter.'
'Certainly not,' said the mother. 'It would be an unfitting marriage. The
poor girl has no advantages.'

'He is not able to pay the baker's bill. I always though Arabin was very
wrong to place such a man in such a parish as Hogglestock. Of course
the family could not live there.' The Arabin here spoken of was Dr
Arabin, dean of Barchester. The dean and archdeacon had married
sisters, and there was much intimacy between the families.
'After all it is only rumour, as yet,' said Mrs Grantly.
'Fothergill told me only yesterday, that he sees her almost every day,'
said the father. 'What are we to do, Griselda? You know how
headstrong Henry is.' The marchioness sat quite still; looking at the fire,
and made no immediate answer to this address.
'There is nothing for it but that you should tell him what you think,' said
the mother.
'If his sister were to speak to him, it might do much,' said the
archdeacon. To this Mrs Grantly said nothing; but Mrs Grantly's
daughter understood very well that her mother's confidence in her was
not equal to her father's. Lady Hartletop said nothing, but still sat, with
impassive face, and eyes fixed upon the fire. 'I think that if you were to
speak to him, Griselda, and tell him that he would disgrace his family,
he would be ashamed to go on with such a marriage,' said the father.
'He would