in the city, never went there
without passing half-an-hour with the old man. These two clergymen,
essentially different in their characters and in every detail of
conduct, had been so much thrown together by circumstances that
the life of each had almost become a part of the life of the other.
Although the fact of Mr. Harding's residence at the deanery had of
late years thrown him oftener into the society of the dean than that
of his other son-in-law, yet his intimacy with the archdeacon had
been so much earlier, and his memories of the archdeacon were so much
clearer, that he depended almost more upon the rector of Plumstead,
who was absent, than he did upon the dean, whom he customarily saw
every day. It was not so with his daughters. His Nelly, as he used to
call her, had ever been his favourite, and the circumstances of their
joint lives had been such, that they had never been further separated
than from one street of Barchester to another--and that only for the
very short period of the married life of Mrs. Arabin's first husband.
For all that was soft and tender therefore,--which with Mr. Harding
was all in the world that was charming to him,--he looked to his
youngest daughter; but for authority and guidance and wisdom, and for
information as to what was going on in the world, he had still turned
to his son-in-law the archdeacon,--as he had done for nearly forty
years. For so long had the archdeacon been potent as a clergyman in
the diocese, and throughout the whole duration of such potency his
word had been law to Mr. Harding in most of the affairs of life,--a
law generally to be obeyed, and if sometimes to be broken, still a
law. And now, when all was so nearly over, he would become unhappy if
the archdeacon's visits were far between. Dr. Grantly, when he found
that this was so, would not allow that they should be far between.

"He puts me so much in mind of my father," the archdeacon said to his
wife one day.

"He is not so old as your father was when he died, by many years,"
said Mrs. Grantly, "and I think one sees that difference."

"Yes;--and therefore I say that he may still live for years. My
father, when he took to his bed at last, was manifestly near his
death. The wonder with him was that he continued to live so long.
Do you not remember how the London doctor was put out because his
prophecies were not fulfilled?"

"I remember it well;--as if it were yesterday."

"And in that way there is a great