ot the less impress itself on his mind. If Mr. Harding could not be
warden of the hospital, why should he not be Dean of Barchester?

And so the conference ended without any very fixed resolution, and
Dr. Gwynne and Mr. Arabin prepared for their journey to Plumstead on
the morrow.

CHAPTER XXXV

Miss Thorne's Fete Champetre

The day of the Ullathorne party arrived, and all the world were
there--or at least so much of the world as had been included in Miss
Thorne's invitation. As we have said, the bishop returned home on
the previous evening, and on the same evening and by the same train
came Dr. Gwynne and Mr. Arabin from Oxford. The archdeacon with his
brougham was in waiting for the Master of Lazarus, so that there was
a goodly show of church dignitaries on the platform of the railway.

The Stanhope party was finally arranged in the odious manner already
described, and Eleanor got into the doctor's carriage full of
apprehension and presentiment of further misfortune, whereas Mr.
Slope entered the vehicle elate with triumph.

He had received that morning a very civil note from Sir Nicholas
Fitzwhiggin, not promising much, indeed, but then Mr. Slope knew,
or fancied that he knew, that it was not etiquette for government
officers to make promises. Though Sir Nicholas promised nothing he
implied a good deal, declared his conviction that Mr. Slope would
make an excellent dean, and wished him every kind of success. To be
sure he added that, not being in the cabinet, he was never consulted
on such matters, and that even if he spoke on the subject, his voice
would go for nothing. But all this Mr. Slope took for the prudent
reserve of official life. To complete his anticipated triumphs,
another letter was brought to him just as he was about to start to
Ullathorne.

Mr. Slope also enjoyed the idea of handing Mrs. Bold out of Dr.
Stanhope's carriage before the multitude at Ullathorne gate as much
as Eleanor dreaded the same ceremony. He had fully made up his mind
to throw himself and his fortune at the widow's feet, and had almost
determined to select the present propitious morning for doing so.
The signora had of late been less than civil to him. She had indeed
admitted his visits and listened, at any rate without anger, to his
love, but she had tortured him and reviled him, jeered at him and
ridiculed him, while she allowed him to call her the most beautiful
of living women, to kiss her hand, and to proclaim h