rse, I should like to go to bed; but I will live in hopes that I
may do both some day." And so there grew to be a friendship between
him and Mrs. Arabin even before they had started.

He had driven through Florence; he saw the Venus de' Medici, and he
saw the Seggiolia; he looked up from the side of the Duomo to the
top of the Campanile, and he walked round the back of the cathedral
itself; he tried to inspect the doors of the Baptistry, and declared
that the "David" was very fine. Then he went back to the hotel, dined
with Mrs. Arabin, and started for England.

The dean was to have joined his wife at Venice, and then they were to
have returned together, coming round by Florence. Mrs. Arabin had not,
therefore, taken her things away from Florence when she left it, and
had been obliged to return to pick them up on her journey homewards.
He,--the dean,--had been delayed in his Eastern travels. Neither
Syria or Constantinople had got themselves done as quickly as he
had expected, and he had, consequently, twice written to his wife,
begging her to pardon the transgression of his absence for even yet
a few days longer. "Everything, therefore," as Mrs. Arabin said, "has
conspired to perpetuate this mystery, which a word from me would have
solved. I owe more to Mr. Crawley than I can ever pay him."

"He will be very well paid, I think," said John, "when he hears the
truth. If you could see the inside his mind at this moment, I'm sure
you'd find that he thinks he stole the cheque."

"He cannot think that, Mr. Eames. Besides, at this moment I hope he
has heard the truth."

"That may be, but he did think so. I do believe that he had not the
slightest notion where he got it; and, which is more, not a single
person in the whole county had a notion. People thought that he had
picked it up, and used it in his despair. And the bishop has been so
hard upon him."

"Oh, Mr. Eames, that is the worst of all."

"So I am told. The bishop has a wife, I believe."

"Yes, he has a wife, certainly," said Mrs. Arabin.

"And people say that she is not very good-natured."

"There are some of us at Barchester who do not love her very dearly.
I cannot say that she is one of my own especial friends."

"I believe she has been hard to Mr. Crawley," said John Eames.

"I should not be in the least surprised," said Mrs. Arabin.

Then they reached Turin, and there, taking up _Galignani's Messenger_
in the reading-room of Trompetta's Hotel, Joh