r that awaited her, and
she heard her brother-in-law's voice in the hall while she was quite
unprepared to see him.

"There's the archdeacon," she said, springing up.

"Yes, my dear. He told me to tell you that he would come and see you;
but to tell the truth I had forgotten all about it."

Eleanor fled away, regardless of all her father's entreaties. She
could not now, in the first hours of her joy, bring herself to bear
all the archdeacon's retractions, apologies, and congratulations.
He would have so much to say, and would be so tedious in saying it;
consequently, the archdeacon, when he was shown into the drawing-room,
found no one there but Mr. Harding.

"You must excuse Eleanor," said Mr. Harding.

"Is anything the matter?" asked the doctor, who at once anticipated
that the whole truth about Mr. Slope had at last come out.

"Well, something is the matter. I wonder now whether you will be much
surprised."

The archdeacon saw by his father-in-law's manner that after all he
had nothing to tell him about Mr. Slope. "No," said he, "certainly
not--nothing will ever surprise me again." Very many men now-a-days
besides the archdeacon adopt or affect to adopt the _nil admirari_
doctrine; but nevertheless, to judge from their appearance, they
are just as subject to sudden emotions as their grandfathers and
grandmothers were before them.

"What do you think Mr. Arabin has done?"

"Mr. Arabin! It's nothing about that daughter of Stanhope's, I hope?"

"No, not that woman," said Mr. Harding, enjoying his joke in his
sleeve.

"Not that woman! Is he going to do anything about any woman? Why can't
you speak out, if you have anything to say? There is nothing I hate so
much as these sort of mysteries."

"There shall be no mystery with you, Archdeacon, though of course it
must go no further at present."

"Well."

"Except Susan. You must promise me you'll tell no one else."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the archdeacon, who was becoming angry in his
suspense. "You can't have any secret about Mr. Arabin."

"Only this--that he and Eleanor are engaged."

It was quite clear to see, by the archdeacon's face, that he did not
believe a word of it. "Mr. Arabin! It's impossible!"

"Eleanor, at any rate, has just now told me so."

"It's impossible," repeated the archdeacon.

"Well, I can't say I think it impossible. It certainly took me by
surprise, but that does not make it impossible."

"She must be mistaken."

Mr. Hardi