THE PHILISTINES AT THE PARSONAGE.
It has been already told how things went on between the Tozers, Mr. Curling, and Mark Robarts during that month. Mr. Forrest had drifted out of the business altogether, as also had Mr. Sowerby, as far as any active participation in it went. Letters came frequently from Mr. Curling to the parsonage, and at last came a message by special mission to say that the evil day was at hand. As far as Mr. Curling’s professional experience would enable him to anticipate or foretell the proceedings of such a man as Tom Tozer, he thought that the sheriff’s officers would be at Framley Parsonage on the following morning. Mr. Curling’s experience did not mislead him in this respect.
“And what will you do, Mark?” said Fanny, speaking through her tears, after she had read the letter which her husband handed to her.
“Nothing. What can I do? They must come.”
“Lord Lufton came to-day. Will you not go to him?”
“No. If I were to do so it would be the same as asking him for the money.”
“Why not borrow it of him, dearest? Surely it would not be so much for him to lend.”
“I could not do it. Think of Lucy, and how she stands with him. Besides I have already had words with Lufton about Sowerby and his money matters. He thinks that I am to blame, and he would tell me so; and then there would be sharp things said between us. He would advance me the money if I pressed for it, but he would do so in a way that would make it impossible that I should take it.”
There was nothing more then to be said. If she had had her own way Mrs. Robarts would have gone at once to Lady Lufton, but she could not induce her husband to sanction such a proceeding. The objection to seeking assistance from her ladyship was as strong as that which prevailed as to her son. There had already been some little beginning of ill-feeling, and under such circumstances it was impossible to ask for pecuniary assistance. Fanny, however, had a prophetic assurance that assistance out of these difficulties must in the end come to them from that quarter, or not come at all; and she would fain, had she been allowed, make everything known at the big house.
On the following morning they breakfasted at the usual hour, but in great sadness. A maid-servant, whom Mrs. Robarts had brought with her when she married, told her that a rumour of what was to happen had reached the kitchen. Stubbs, the groom, had been in Barchester on the preceding day, and, according to his account—so said Mary—everybody in the city was talking about it. “Never mind, Mary,” said Mrs. Robarts, and Mary replied, “Oh, no, of course not, ma’am.”