ese two hours you have not
been gracious enough to read it. It is about the Sabbath-school and
the children. You know how anxious I am to have them here. I have
been learning the catechism myself, on purpose. You must manage
it for me next week. I will teach them, at any rate, to submit
themselves to their spiritual pastors and masters."

Mr. Slope said but little on the subject of Sabbath-schools, but he
made his adieu, and betook himself home with a sad heart, troubled
mind, and uneasy conscience.

CHAPTER XXVIII

Mrs. Bold is Entertained by Dr. and Mrs. Grantly at Plumstead

It will be remembered that Mr. Slope, when leaving his _billet-doux_
at the house of Mrs. Bold, had been informed that it would be sent out
to her at Plumstead that afternoon. The archdeacon and Mr. Harding
had in fact come into town together in the brougham, and it had been
arranged that they should call for Eleanor's parcels as they left on
their way home. Accordingly they did so call, and the maid, as she
handed to the coachman a small basket and large bundle carefully and
neatly packed, gave in at the carriage window Mr. Slope's epistle.
The archdeacon, who was sitting next to the window, took it and
immediately recognized the hand-writing of his enemy.

"Who left this?" said he.

"Mr. Slope called with it himself, your Reverence," said the girl,
"and was very anxious that Missus should have it to-day."

So the brougham drove off, and the letter was left in the archdeacon's
hand. He looked at it as though he held a basket of adders. He could
not have thought worse of the document had he read it and discovered
it to be licentious and atheistical. He did, moreover, what so
many wise people are accustomed to do in similar circumstances; he
immediately condemned the person to whom the letter was written, as
though she were necessarily a _particeps criminis_.

Poor Mr. Harding, though by no means inclined to forward Mr. Slope's
intimacy with his daughter, would have given anything to have kept
the letter from his son-in-law. But that was now impossible. There
it was in his hand, and he looked as thoroughly disgusted as though
he were quite sure that it contained all the rhapsodies of a favoured
lover.

"It's very hard on me," said he after awhile, "that this should go on
under my roof."

Now here the archdeacon was certainly most unreasonable. Having
invited his sister-in-law to his house, it was a natural consequence
that sh