h was, after some
ecclesiastical fashion, attached to the rectory of Plumstead, and
which was now vacant by the demise of Mr. Harding, might be conferred
by the archdeacon upon Mr. Crawley. It was necessary to explain also
that this could not be done quite immediately, and in doing this the
dean encountered some little difficulty. The archdeacon, he said,
wished to be allowed another week to think about it; and therefore
perhaps provision for the duties at Hogglestock might yet be made for
a few Sundays. The bishop, the dean said, might easily understand
that, after what had occurred, Mr. Crawley would hardly wish to go
again into that pulpit, unless he did so as resuming duties which
would necessarily be permanent with him. To all this the bishop
assented, but he was apparently struck with much wonder at the choice
made by the archdeacon. "I should have thought, Mr. Dean," he said,
"that Mr. Crawley was the last man to have suited the archdeacon's
choice."

"The archdeacon and I married sisters, my lord."

"Oh, ah! yes. And he puts the nomination of St Ewold's at your
disposition. I am sure I shall be delighted to institute so worthy
a gentleman as Mr. Crawley." Then the dean took his leave of the
bishop,--as we will also. Poor dear bishop! I am inclined to think
that he was right in his regrets as to the little parsonage. Not that
his failure at Barchester, and his present consciousness of lonely
incompetence, were mainly due to any positive inefficiency on his own
part. He might have been a sufficiently good bishop, had it not been
that Mrs. Proudie was so much more than a sufficiently good bishop's
wife. We will now say farewell to him, with a hope that the lopped
tree may yet become green again, and to some extent fruitful,
although all its beautiful head and richness of waving foliage have
been taken from it.

About a week after this Henry Grantly rode over from Cosby Lodge to
Hogglestock. It has been just said that though the assizes had passed
by and though all question of Mr. Crawley's guilt was now set aside,
no visitor had of late made his way over to Hogglestock. I fancy
that Grace Crawley forgot, in the fullness of her memory as to other
things, that Mr. Harding, of whose death she heard, had been her
lover's grandfather,--and that therefore there might possibly be some
delay. Had there been much said between the mother and the daughter
about the lover, no doubt all this would have been explained;
but