England -- Fiction; Love stories; Scholars -- Fiction
"So I am, my lord; so I am. But I doubt whether I should be justified
in giving such a pledge."
"Justified! you will make me almost doubt, Mr. Wilkinson, whether I
shall be justified in putting the living into your hands; but, at any
rate, I must have an answer."
"What time can you allow me to consider my answer?"
"What time! It never struck me that you could require time. Well;
you can let me have your decision to-morrow morning. Send it me in
writing, so that I may have it before ten. The post goes out at
twelve. If I do not hear from you before ten, I shall conclude that
you have refused my offer." And so speaking the marquis got up from
his chair.
Arthur also got up, and promised that he would send a letter over
from Bowes the first thing on the following morning.
"And tell the messenger to wait for an answer," said his lordship;
"and pray express yourself definitely, so that there may be no
doubt." And then, muttering something as to his hope that the inn was
comfortable, and saying that the state of his health prohibited him
from entertaining visitors, the marquis again put out his fingers,
and Arthur soon found himself in the gig on his journey to Bowes.
He intended returning to town on the following day by the
twelve-o'clock mail, of which Lord Stapledean had spoken. But before
that he had a difficult task to perform. He had no friend to consult,
no one of whom he could ask advice, nothing to rely on but his own
head and his own heart. That suggestion as to simony perplexed him.
Had he the right, or could he have it, to appropriate the income of
the living according to terms laid down by the lay impropriator? At
one time he thought of calling on the old clergyman of the parish and
asking him; but then he remembered what the marquis had said of the
neighbouring parsons, and felt that he could not well consult one of
them on any matter in which his lordship was concerned.
In the evening he considered the matter long and painfully, sitting
over a cup of some exquisitely detestable concoction called tea by
the Bowesian landlady. "If he had only left me to myself," thought
Arthur, "I should do at least as much as that for them. It is for
them that I want it; as for myself, I should be more comfortable at
Oxford." And then he thought of West Putford, and Adela Gauntlet.
This arrangement of Lord Stapledean's would entirely prevent the
possibility of his marrying; but then, the burden of his mother and
sisters would prevent that equally under any circumstances.
It would be a great thing for his mother to be left in her old house,
among her old friends, in possession of her old income. As regarded
money, they would all be sufficiently well provided for. For himself,
his fellowship and his prescribed stipend would be more than enough.
But there was something in the proposition that was very distasteful
to him. He did not begrudge the money to his mother; but he did
begrudge her the right of having it from any one but himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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