pointment to the hospital was, however, a _fait
accompli_, and Mr. Harding's acquiescence in that appointment was not
less so. Nothing would induce Mr. Harding to make a public appeal
against the bishop, and the Master of Lazarus quite approved of his
not doing so.

"I don't know what has come to the master," said the archdeacon over
and over again. "He used to be ready enough to stand up for his
order."

"My dear Archdeacon," Mrs. Grantly would say in reply, "what is the
use of always fighting? I really think the master is right." The
master, however, had taken steps of his own of which neither the
archdeacon nor his wife knew anything.

Then Mr. Slope's successes were henbane to Dr. Grantly, and Mrs.
Bold's improprieties were as bad. What would be all the world to
Archdeacon Grantly if Mr. Slope should become Dean of Barchester and
marry his wife's sister! He talked of it and talked of it till he was
nearly ill. Mrs. Grantly almost wished that the marriage were done and
over, so that she might hear no more about it.

And there was yet another ground of misery which cut him to the quick
nearly as closely as either of the others. That paragon of a clergyman
whom he had bestowed upon St. Ewold's, that college friend of whom he
had boasted so loudly, that ecclesiastical knight before whose lance
Mr. Slope was to fall and bite the dust, that worthy bulwark of the
church as it should be, that honoured representative of Oxford's
best spirit, was--so at least his wife had told him half a dozen
times--misconducting himself!

Nothing had been seen of Mr. Arabin at Plumstead for the last week,
but a good deal had, unfortunately, been heard of him. As soon as Mrs.
Grantly had found herself alone with the archdeacon, on the evening of
the Ullathorne party, she had expressed herself very forcibly as to
Mr. Arabin's conduct on that occasion. He had, she declared, looked
and acted and talked very unlike a decent parish clergyman. At first
the archdeacon had laughed at this, and assured her that she need not
trouble herself--that Mr. Arabin would be found to be quite safe. But
by degrees he began to find that his wife's eyes had been sharper than
his own. Other people coupled the signora's name with that of Mr.
Arabin. The meagre little prebendary who lived in the close told him
to a nicety how often Mr. Arabin had visited at Dr. Stanhope's, and
how long he had remained on the occasion of each visit. He had asked
after Mr. Arab