Then he went out to fetch his wife, and while he was away not a word was spoken. The major looked out of one window and Mr Toogood out of the other, and they waited patiently till they heard the coming steps of the husband and wife. When the door was opened, Mr Crawley appeared, leading his wife by the hand. 'My dear,' he said, 'you know Major Grantly. This is your cousin, Mr Toogood. It is well that you know him too, and remember his great kindness to us.' But Mrs Crawley could not speak. She could only sink on the sofa, and hide her face, while she strove in vain to repress her sobs. She had been very strong through all her husband's troubles--very strong in bearing for him what he could not bear for himself, and in fighting on his behalf battles in which he was altogether unable to couch a lance; but the endurance of so many troubles and the great overwhelming sorrow at last had so nearly overpowered her, that she could not sustain the shock of this turn in their fortunes. 'She was never like this, sirs, when ill news came to us,' said Mr Crawley, standing somewhat apart from her.
The major sat himself by her side, and put his hand upon hers, and whispered some word to her about her daughter. Upon this she threw her arms around him, and kissed his face, and then his hands, and then looked up into his face through her tears. She murmured some few words, or attempted to do so. I doubt whether the major understood their meaning, but he knew very well what was in her heart.
'And now I think we might as well be moving,' said Mr Toogood. 'I'll see about having the indictment quashed. I'll arrange all that with Walker.
It may be necessary that you should go into Barchester the first day the judges sit; and if so, I'll come and fetch you. You may be sure I won't leave the place till it's all square.'
As they were going, Grantly--speaking now altogether with indifference to Toogood's presence--asked Mr Crawley's leave to be the bearer of these tidings to his daughter.
'She can hear it in no tones that can be more grateful to her,' said Mr Crawley.
'I shall ask her for nothing for myself now,' said Grantly. 'It would be ungenerous. But hereafter--in a few days--when she shall be more at ease, may I then use your permission--?'
'Major Grantly,' said Mr Crawley solemnly. 'I respect you so highly, and esteem you so thoroughly, that I give willingly that which you ask.
If my daughter can bring herself to regard you, as a woman should regard her husband, with the love that can worship and cling and be constant, she will, I think, have a fair promise of worldly happiness. And for you, sir, in giving you my girl--if so be it that she is given to you--Ishall bestow upon you a great treasure.' Had Grace been a king's daughter, with a queen's dowry, the permission to address her could not have been imparted to her lover with a more thorough appreciation of the value of privilege conferred.
'He's a rum one,' said Mr Toogood, as they got into the carriage together; 'but they say he's a very good 'un to go.'
After their departure Jane was sent for, that she might hear the family news; and when she expressed some feeling not altogether in favour of Mr Toogood, Mr Crawley thus strove to correct her views. 'He is a man, my dear, who conceals a warm heart, and an active spirit, and healthy sympathies, under an affected jocularity of manner, and almost with a touch of vulgarity. But when the jewel itself is good, any fault in the casket may be forgiven.'
'Then, papa, the next time I see him I'll like him--if I can,' said Jane.
The village of Framley lies slightly off the road from Hogglestock to Barchester--so much so as to add perhaps a mile to the journey if the traveller goes by the parsonage gate. On their route to Hogglestock our two travellers had passed Framley without visiting the village, but on the return journey the major asked Mr Toogood's permission to make the deviation. 'I'm not in a hurry,' said Toogood. 'I never was more comfortable in my life. I'll just light a cigar while you go in and see your friends.' Toogood lit his cigar, and the major, getting down from the carriage, entered the parsonage. It was his fortune to find Grace alone. Robarts was in Barchester, and Mrs Robarts was across the road, at Lufton Court. 'Miss Crawley is certainly in,' the servant told him, and he soon found himself in Miss Crawley's presence.
'I have only called to tell you the news about your father,' said he.
'What news?'
'We have just come from Hogglestock--your cousin Mr Toogood, that is, and myself. They have found out all about the cheque. My aunt, Mrs Arabin, the dean's wife, you know--she gave it to your father.'
'Oh, Major Grantly!'
'It seems so easily settled, does it not?'
'And is it settled?'
'Yes; everything. Everything about that.' Now he had hold of her hand as if he were going. 'Good-bye. I told your father that I would just call and tell you.'
'It seems almost more than I can believe.'
'You may believe it; indeed you may.' He still held her hand. 'You will write to your mother I daresay tonight. Tell her I was here. Good-bye now.'
'Good-bye,' she said. Her hand was still in his, as she looked up into his face.
'Dear, dear, Grace! My darling Grace!' Then he took her into his arms and kissed her, and went his way without another word, feeling that he had kept his word to her father like a gentleman. Grace, when she was left alone, thought that she was the happiest girl in Christendom. If she could only get to her mother, and tell everything, and be told everything! She had no idea of any promise that her lover may have made to her father, nor did she make inquiry of her own thoughts as to the reasons for staying with her so short a time; but looking back at it all she thought his conduct had been perfect.
In the meantime, the major, with Mr Toogood, was driven home to dinner at Barchester.