red with enmity by the archdeacon and the archdeacon's
friends. If left to himself he could feel and to a certain extent
could resent such enmity. But he had no faith in his wife's doctrine
of emanations. He had no faith in many things which she believed
religiously;--and yet what could he do? If he attempted to explain,
she would stop him before he had got through the first half of his
first sentence.

"If he is out on bail--," commenced the bishop.

"Of course he will be out on bail."

"Then I think he should feel--"

"Feel! such men never feel! What feeling can one expect from a
convicted thief?"

"Not convicted yet, my dear," said the bishop.

"A convicted thief," repeated Mrs. Proudie; and she vociferated the
words in such a tone that the bishop resolved that he would for the
future let the word convicted pass without notice. After all she was
only using the phrase in a peculiar sense given to it by herself.

[Illustration: "A convicted thief," repeated Mrs. Proudie.]

"It won't be proper, certainly, that he should do the services,"
suggested the bishop.

"Proper! It would be a scandal to the whole diocese. How could he
raise his head as he pronounced the eighth commandment? That must be
at least prevented."

The bishop, who was seated, fretted himself in his chair, moving
about with little movements. He knew that there was a misery coming
upon him; and, as far as he could see, it might become a great
misery,--a huge blistering sore upon him. When miseries came to him,
as they did not unfrequently, he would unconsciously endeavour to
fathom them and weigh them, and then, with some gallantry, resolve to
bear them, if he could find that their depth and weight were not too
great for his powers of endurance. He would let the cold wind whistle
by him, putting up the collar of his coat, and would encounter the
winter weather without complaint. And he would be patient under the
sun, knowing well that tranquillity is best for those who have to
bear tropical heat. But when the storm threatened to knock him off
his legs, when the earth beneath him became too hot for his poor
tender feet,--what could he do then? There had been with him such
periods of misery, during which he had wailed inwardly and had
confessed to himself that the wife of his bosom was too much for him.
Now the storm seemed to be coming very roughly. It would be demanded
of him that he should exercise certain episcopal authority which he
knew d