“You are joking now, Lucy, I know.”
“No, by my word; not in the spirit of what I am saying. How shall I act upon my heart, if I do not do it through the blood and the flesh?”
“Do you not pray that God will give you strength to bear these troubles?”
“But how is one to word one’s prayer, or how even to word one’s wishes? I do not know what is the wrong that I have done. I say it boldly; in this matter I cannot see my own fault. I have simply found that I have been a fool.”
It was now quite dark in the room, or would have been so to any one entering it afresh. They had remained there talking till their eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, and would still have remained, had they not suddenly been disturbed by the sound of a horse’s feet.
“There is Mark,” said Fanny, jumping up and running to the bell, that lights might be ready when he should enter.
“I thought he remained in Barchester to-night.”
“And so did I; but he said it might be doubtful. What shall we do if he has not dined?”
That, I believe, is always the first thought in the mind of a good wife when her husband returns home. Has he had his dinner? What can I give him for dinner? Will he like his dinner? Oh dear, oh dear! there is nothing in the house but cold mutton. But on this occasion the lord of the mansion had dined, and came home radiant with good-humour, and owing, perhaps, a little of his radiance to the dean’s claret. “I have told them,” said he, “that they may keep possession of the house for the next two months, and they have agreed to that arrangement.”
“That is very pleasant,” said Mrs. Robarts.