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Page 67
Having gone through this Mr Harding got into another omnibus, and
again returned to the House. Yes, Sir Abraham was there, and was
that moment on his legs, fighting eagerly for the hundred and seventh
clause of the Convent Custody Bill. Mr Harding's note had been
delivered to him; and if Mr Harding would wait some two or three
hours, Sir Abraham could be asked whether there was any answer.
The House was not full, and perhaps Mr Harding might get admittance
into the Strangers' Gallery, which admission, with the help of five
shillings, Mr Harding was able to effect.
This bill of Sir Abraham's had been read a second time and passed into
committee. A hundred and six clauses had already been discussed and
had occupied only four mornings and five evening sittings; nine of
the hundred and six clauses were passed, fifty-five were withdrawn
by consent, fourteen had been altered so as to mean the reverse of
the original proposition, eleven had been postponed for further
consideration, and seventeen had been directly negatived. The hundred
and seventh ordered the bodily searching of nuns for jesuitical
symbols by aged clergymen, and was considered to be the real mainstay
of the whole bill. No intention had ever existed to pass such a law
as that proposed, but the government did not intend to abandon it
till their object was fully attained by the discussion of this clause.
It was known that it would be insisted on with terrible vehemence by
Protestant Irish members, and as vehemently denounced by the Roman
Catholic; and it was justly considered that no further union between
the parties would be possible after such a battle. The innocent Irish
fell into the trap as they always do, and whiskey and poplins became a
drug in the market.
A florid-faced gentleman with a nice head of hair, from the south of
Ireland, had succeeded in catching the speaker's eye by the time that
Mr Harding had got into the gallery, and was denouncing the proposed
sacrilege, his whole face glowing with a fine theatrical frenzy.
"And this is a Christian country?" said he. (Loud cheers; counter
cheers from the ministerial benches. "Some doubt as to that," from
a voice below the gangway.) "No, it can be no Christian country,
in which the head of the bar, the lagal adviser (loud laughter and
cheers)--yes, I say the lagal adviser of the crown (great cheers and
laughter)--can stand up in his seat in this house (prolonged cheers
and laughter), and attempt to lagalise indacent assaults on the bodies
of religious ladies." (Deafening cheers and laughter, which were
prolonged till the honourable member resumed his seat.)
When Mr Harding had listened to this and much more of the same kind
for about three hours, he returned to the door of the House, and
received back from the messenger his own note, with the following
words scrawled in pencil on the back of it: "To-morrow, 10 P.M.--my
chambers.--A. H."
He was so far successful;--but 10 P.M.: what an hour Sir Abraham had
named for a legal interview! Mr Harding felt perfectly sure that long
before that Dr Grantly would be in London. Dr Grantly could not,
however, know that this interview had been arranged, nor could he
learn it unless he managed to get hold of Sir Abraham before that
hour; and as this was very improbable, Mr Harding determined to
start from his hotel early, merely leaving word that he should dine
out, and unless luck were much against him, he might still escape the
archdeacon till his return from the attorney-general's chambers.
He was at breakfast at nine, and for the twentieth time consulted his
Bradshaw, to see at what earliest hour Dr Grantly could arrive from
Barchester. As he examined the columns, he was nearly petrified
by the reflection that perhaps the archdeacon might come up by the
night-mail train! His heart sank within him at the horrid idea,
and for a moment he felt himself dragged back to Barchester without
accomplishing any portion of his object. Then he remembered that had
Dr Grantly done so, he would have been in the hotel, looking for him
long since.
"Waiter," said he, timidly.
The waiter approached, creaking in his shoes, but voiceless.
"Did any gentleman,--a clergyman, arrive here by the night-mail
train?"
"No, sir, not one," whispered the waiter, putting his mouth nearly
close to the warden's ear.
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