ore him, with a pen
in his hand; and she could see at a glance that nothing had been
written on the paper. What would she have thought had she known that
when he placed the sheet before him he was proposing to consult
the archbishop as to the propriety of his resignation! He had not,
however, progressed so far as to write even the date of his letter.

"You have done what?" said he, throwing down the pen.

"I have arranged with Mr. Thumble as to going out to Hogglestock," she
said firmly. "Indeed he has gone already." Then the bishop jumped up
from his seat, and rang the bell with violence. "What are you going
to do?" said Mrs. Proudie.

"I am going to depart from here," he said. "I will not stay here
to be the mark of scorn for all men's fingers. I will resign the
diocese."

"You cannot do that," said his wife.

"I can try, at any rate," said he. Then the servant entered. "John,"
said he, addressing the man, "let Mr. Thumble know the moment he
returns to the palace I wish to see him here. Perhaps he may not come
to the palace. In that case let word be sent to his house."

Mrs. Proudie allowed the man to go before she addressed her husband
again. "What do you mean to say to Mr. Thumble when you see him?"

"That is nothing to you."

She came up to him and put her hand upon his shoulder, and spoke to
him very gently. "Tom," she said, "is that the way in which you speak
to your wife?"

"Yes, it is. You have driven me to it. Why have you taken upon
yourself to send that man to Hogglestock?"

"Because it was right to do so. I came to you for instructions, and
you would give none."

"I should have given what instructions I pleased in proper time.
Thumble shall not go to Hogglestock next Sunday."

"Who shall go, then?"

"Never mind. Nobody. It does not matter to you. If you will leave me
now I shall be obliged to you. There will be an end of all this very
soon,--very soon."

Mrs. Proudie after this stood for a while thinking what she would say;
but she left the room without uttering another word. As she looked at
him a hundred different thoughts came into her mind. She had loved
him dearly, and she loved him still; but she knew now,--at this
moment felt absolutely sure,--that by him she was hated! In spite
of all her roughness and temper, Mrs. Proudie was in this like other
women,--that she would fain have been loved had it been possible. She
had always meant to serve him. She was conscious of that; conscious