書(shū)蟲(chóng)6級(jí)《巴徹斯特教堂尖塔》7. 普勞蒂太太的勝利

7. Victory for Mrs Proudie

When Eleanor arrived at her house in Barchester, she was met by her sister-in-law, who ran out to greet her, saying, 'Oh Eleanor, have you heard what has happened? The poor dean, Dr Trefoil, is very ill – I fear he is dying!'

The news spread fast all round the city, and most of the clergy were gathering in the cathedral library. This was a large room which was attached to the dean's house – a convenient place to wait for information about his state of health. It appeared that the old man had suddenly fallen ill, and was close to death. The great London doctor, Sir Omicron Pie, had been sent for, but meanwhile the Barchester doctors were doing their best.

In the library the clergy spoke in low, respectful voices.

He was an excellent, sweet-tempered man,' said a vicar.

It will be hard to replace him,' said another. 'Archdeacon, I hope the government will not appoint a stranger to the post.'

We will not talk of a new dean,' said Dr Grantly, 'while there is yet hope that Dr Trefoil may live.'

Oh no, of course not. Still, there is no one who has more influence with the present government than Mr Slope –'

Mr Slope!' said two or three voices together. 'Mr Slope – Dean of Barchester! Impossible!'

The archdeacon had turned pale. What if Mr Slope should become Dean of Barchester? There was no reason for it at all, but the man seemed to have power over Dr Proudie, and Dr Proudie had won the prime minister's approval.

I imagine such a thing is out of the question,' he said, 'but at the moment I am thinking more of our poor friend than of Mr Slope.'

Of course, of course,' said the first vicar, 'so are we all. Poor Dr Trefoil, the best of men, but –'

It's the most comfortable dean's residence in the country,' said another.

And two thousand pounds a year,' said a third.

No, it was cut down to twelve hundred,' said the first.

I think you'll find it's fifteen hundred,' said a fourth.

What do you say, Grantly?' asked the first speaker.

Twelve,' replied the archdeacon firmly, putting a stop to all discussion of the dean's income.

The bishop was sitting in his study at the palace when he heard the news of the dean's illness. Dr Proudie was not feeling well himself. It was only yesterday that he had won his first battle against Mrs Proudie, and had thought his slavery might be at an end. He had spent a happy evening with Mr Slope, planning many things in his new-found freedom, but as the bed-time hour approached, his heart sank within him. Could he trust himself to come down to breakfast a free man? Unwillingly he climbed upstairs, an hour later than usual, to the room he shared with his lady wife. What passed between them that night cannot be easily described. It is enough to say that he came down the following morning a sad and thoughtful man, looking thinner, older and greyer than before. All ambition was now dead within him.

When Mr Slope heard the news, it occurred to him that he himself might be the new dean. He too wondered if the income would be twelve hundred, fifteen hundred, or two thousand, but in any case it would be a great step forward for him – he would have more power than the archdeacon.

He began to make his plans. First, he was sure he could rely on the bishop's support – the prime minister might ask Dr Proudie's advice on who should fill the vacancy. Secondly, he knew a gentleman, Sir Nicholas Fitzwhiggin, who was an inspector of schools, and who had many friends in the government – he hoped Sir Nicholas would use his personal contacts to help him. And finally, he flattered himself that he had a useful friend in Mr Towers, a journalist on The Jupiter, who would be able to put forward the name of Slope in the newspaper's columns.

The dean was still alive, but Mr Slope did not want to waste any time. So he went straight to the bishop's study, knowing that Dr Proudie was to set out the next day for the archbishop's palace. The bishop was sitting in his chair, doing nothing and thinking of nothing, as Mr Slope entered.

Well, Slope?' said the bishop somewhat impatiently. He was not anxious to have much conversation with Mr Slope.

Your lordship will be sorry to hear that the poor dean's health has not improved at all.'

Oh – ah – hasn't it? Poor man! Poor man!'

It will naturally be important to your lordship to have, as the new dean, a man who shares your views. If I might be allowed to advise, I would suggest you discuss this with the archbishop tomorrow. I have no doubt that your wishes, supported by the archbishop, would carry much weight with the prime minister.'

The prime minister has always been kind to me, very kind. But I am unwilling to interfere in such matters, unless asked. And indeed, if asked, I don't know whom I should recommend.'

This was a slight shock to Mr Slope, who, however, recovered quickly. His difficulty was how to make his speech sound modest enough. 'Perhaps I can help you there, my lord. I have been considering the matter for some time, and if poor Dr Trefoil must go, I do not see why, with your lordship's assistance, I should not hold the post myself.'

You!' cried the bishop, in a far from flattering manner.

The ice was now broken, and Mr Slope began to speak smoothly and persuasively. He talked of his achievements so far, his work for the Church, his friends in high places, and his great respect and admiration for Dr Proudie. He described the ways he, as dean, could add to Dr Proudie's comfort in Barchester and influence over the clergy. Then, without pausing, he produced another seven or eight reasons why no one on earth could make such a good Dean of Barchester as himself.

The bishop sat there, speechless. He would never have imagined Mr Slope as Dean of Barchester, but little by little he began to see there would be advantages for himself in this promotion. He could well do without Mr Slope, who was no longer useful to him in his war against Mrs Proudie; in this war the bishop had now admitted defeat. If, indeed, he could have slept in his chaplain's bedroom instead of his wife's, there might have been some reason to keep Mr Slope.

So, in the end, the bishop approved of Mr Slope's suggestion, and it was decided that he would mention it to the archbishop as soon as the occasion presented itself. But Dr Proudie wanted something from his chaplain in return. 'About Hiram's Hospital,' he said. 'I think, on the whole, it will be better to let Mr Quiverful have it. He has a large family, and is very poor.'

But, my lord,' said Mr Slope, not wanting to let Mrs Proudie gain a victory, 'I am really much afraid –'

Remember, Mr Slope,' said the bishop, 'I cannot promise you the post of dean. I will speak to the archbishop, as you wish, but I cannot be sure –'

Well, my lord,' said Mr Slope, fully understanding the bishop, 'perhaps you are right about Mr Quiverful. I can easily manage matters with Mr Harding. Leave him to me.'

Yes, Slope, that will be best, and you may be sure that I will do anything I can to put forward your name.'

And so they parted. Mr Slope now had much business on his hands. He had to make his daily visit to the signora. It would have been wiser not to do this, but passion had made him blind. He decided he would take tea at the Stanhopes' just this once, and then go there no more. He also had to arrange matters with Mrs Bold. She would make as charming a dean's wife as a chaplain's, and her fortune would be a useful addition if the dean's income was found to be only twelve hundred.

Mr Slope, along with many others, thought that all was fair in love and war. So he had not considered it dishonourable to bribe and flatter Eleanor's young maid, in order to get information from her about the widow. In this way he had heard about the arrival of his letter at Plumstead and the arguments which had followed; to his delight, the maid thought she had heard Mrs Bold declare that she 'wouldn't give up Mr Slope for anybody'. This made the chaplain feel quite certain that the beautiful widow would now, in all probability, accept his offer. He must, therefore, make his declaration very soon, before it was known that Mr Quiverful, not Mr Harding, was to have the wardenship.

In addition, he had to gain the support of Sir Nicholas and Mr Towers, in order to become dean, so he sat down at once to write to each gentleman. Once he had posted the letters, he was free to sit by the lovely signora's sofa for the rest of the evening.

During the next week, Mrs Bold spent a great deal of time with the Stanhopes, of whom she became fonder and fonder. If asked, she would have said Charlotte was her special friend, but she liked Bertie nearly as much. She allowed him a kind of familiarity which she had never known with anyone else, and which she did not realize could be dangerous. In all this she was perfectly innocent, having no idea of him as a lover. But every familiarity into which Eleanor was trapped was deliberately planned by Charlotte. The sister knew well how to play her game, and played it without mercy; she knew her brother's character, and yet she would have handed over to him the young widow, and the young widow's money, without pity or regret. In order to do this Charlotte made her family and her father's house very welcoming to Mrs Bold. There was a lack of formality about them all which Eleanor found refreshing, after the priestly pride and stiffness she had recently had to put up with.

But Eleanor by no means forgot Mr Arabin. She had parted from him in anger, and she was still angry with him, but she sincerely wanted to meet him again, and forgive him for his sins towards her. The words he had spoken still sounded in her ears. She knew that they meant he loved her, and if he ever did make a declaration of love, she thought she might receive it kindly. But first he would have to confess that he had misjudged her.

She would see him again at Miss Thorne's garden party in a week's time. This was a grand event with lunch and all kinds of entertainment – sports and games, music and dancing. Everyone for miles around was looking forward to it.

The Grantlys had, of course, been invited to the party, and Eleanor had originally intended to go to Ullathorne with her sister. But because of her quarrel with the archdeacon, she had decided to go with the Stanhopes. However, she was alarmed to find that Mr Slope would be accompanying the Stanhopes, and annoyed to discover that she would be sharing a carriage with him. She hated the thought of Mr Arabin seeing her get out of the same carriage as Mr Slope, but could think of no way of avoiding the situation.

The bishop returned from his stay with the archbishop the day before the garden party. On his arrival he crept into his palace with beating heart; he had stayed three days longer than planned, and feared he would be punished for it. Nothing, however, could be more welcoming than the greeting he received; his daughters kissed him, and Mrs Proudie held him in her arms, calling him her dear, darling, good little bishop. This was a very pleasant surprise.

Mrs Proudie had changed her behaviour towards her lord. She wanted to show him that if he obeyed her, he would get his reward. Mr Slope had no chance of winning against her; not only could she half kill the poor bishop with her midnight anger, but she could comfort and cheer him with good dinners, warm fires, and an easy life.

She sat down with him in his study. The bishop felt delightfully relaxed, in his favourite armchair in front of the fire.

I hope you enjoyed yourself at the archbishop's,' she began, with her best attempt at a loving smile.

Oh yes, my dear. The archbishop was quite polite to me.'

I'm delighted to hear it.' She changed the conversation. 'Well, the poor dean is still alive. Was it discussed at the palace?'

Well, the poor dean is still alive. Was it discussed at the palace?' asked Mrs Slope.

Was what discussed?' asked the bishop.

Replacing the dean,' said Mrs Proudie. As she spoke, her eyes flashed in their old familiar way, and the bishop felt a little less comfortable than before.

Hardly at all, my dear. It was just mentioned.'

And what did you say about it, bishop?'

I? Oh, I just said – I thought – that is, if the dean –' As he searched for the right words, he saw his wife looking sternly at him, and he began to wonder. Why should he suffer so much to assist a man like Slope? Why fight a losing battle for a chaplain? From that moment he decided to give up his support for Slope, and try to gain his wife's approval in everything he did.

I am told,' said Mrs Proudie, speaking very slowly, 'that Mr Slope hopes to be the new dean.'

Yes – certainly, I believe he does.'

I hope, bishop, that you did not do anything so foolish as to mention his name to the archbishop.'

Well, my dear, I may have done –'

What were you thinking of, bishop? A man who hardly knows who his own father was! A man I found without bread to eat or a coat on his back! Dean of Barchester, indeed! I'll dean him!'

But my dear, I thought you were beginning to dislike Mr Slope, and therefore, it seemed to me that if he got this post, and stopped being my chaplain, you might be pleased.'

Mrs Proudie laughed a loud, scornful laugh. 'Of course he'll stop being your chaplain! I couldn't for a moment think of living in the same house as such a man. But he won't become dean, oh no! I have my eye on him. It wasn't enough for him to interfere in cathedral business, to get you, my dear, into trouble and cause quarrelling among the clergy, no, that wasn't enough for him! He is now behaving in a most disgraceful way with that Italian woman. I shall show Mr Slope to the world for what he is – a false, mean, wicked man. Dean, indeed! The man has gone mad!'

The bishop said nothing further to excuse himself or his chaplain, and he and his wife went in to dinner. That evening was the pleasantest he had spent in his own house for a long time. And in the morning, when he was dressing for the Ullathorne party, he promised himself he would never again go into battle against a fighter so skilled and so deadly as Mrs Proudie.