d breakfast in her own room. Here
she was visited by her father, and declared to him her intention of
returning immediately to Barchester. He was hardly surprised by the
announcement. All the household seemed to be aware that something had
gone wrong. Everyone walked about with subdued feet, and people's
shoes seemed to creak more than usual. There was a look of conscious
intelligence on the faces of the women, and the men attempted, but
in vain, to converse as though nothing were the matter. All this had
weighed heavily on the heart of Mr. Harding, and when Eleanor told him
that her immediate return to Barchester was a necessity, he merely
sighed piteously and said that he would be ready to accompany her.

But here she objected strenuously. She had a great wish, she said,
to go alone; a great desire that it might be seen that her father was
not implicated in her quarrel with Dr. Grantly. To this at last he
gave way; but not a word passed between them about Mr. Slope--not a
word was said, not a question asked as to the serious interview on
the preceding evening. There was, indeed, very little confidence
between them, though neither of them knew why it should be so. Eleanor
once asked him whether he would not call upon the bishop, but he
answered rather tartly that he did not know--he did not think he
should, but he could not say just at present. And so they parted. Each
was miserably anxious for some show of affection, for some return
of confidence, for some sign of the feeling that usually bound them
together. But none was given. The father could not bring himself to
question his daughter about her supposed lover, and the daughter
would not sully her mouth by repeating the odious word with which Dr.
Grantly had roused her wrath. And so they parted.

There was some trouble in arranging the method of Eleanor's return.
She begged her father to send for a post-chaise, but when Mrs.
Grantly heard of this, she objected strongly. If Eleanor would go
away in dudgeon with the archdeacon, why should she let all the
servants and all the neighbourhood know that she had done so? So at
last Eleanor consented to make use of the Plumstead carriage, and
as the archdeacon had gone out immediately after breakfast and was
not to return till dinner-time, she also consented to postpone her
journey till after lunch, and to join the family at that time. As to
the subject of the quarrel not a word was said by anyone. The affair
of the carria