s study, and into the presence of the two great
luminaries of the diocese. He was at first somewhat disconcerted by
finding Mrs. Proudie in the room. In the imaginary conversation with
the bishop which he had been preparing on the road, he had conceived
that the bishop would be attended by a chaplain, and he had suited
his words to the joint discomfiture of the bishop and of the lower
clergyman;--but now the line of his battle must be altered. This
was no doubt an injury, but he trusted to his courage and readiness
to enable him to surmount it. He had left his hat behind him in
the waiting room, but he kept his old short cloak still upon his
shoulders; and when he entered the bishop's room his hands and arms
were hid beneath it. There was something lowly in this constrained
gait. It showed at least that he had no idea of being asked to
shake hands with the August persons he might meet. And his head was
somewhat bowed, though his great, bald, broad forehead showed itself
so prominent, that neither the bishop nor Mrs. Proudie could drop it
from their sight during the whole interview. He was a man who when
seen could hardly be forgotten. The deep angry remonstrant eyes, the
shaggy eyebrows, telling tales of frequent anger,--of anger frequent
but generally silent,--the repressed indignation of the habitual
frown, the long nose and large powerful mouth, the deep furrows
on the cheek, and the general look of thought and suffering, all
combined to make the appearance of the man remarkable, and to
describe to the beholders at once his true character. No one ever on
seeing Mr. Crawley took him to be a happy man, or a weak man, or an
ignorant man, or a wise man.

"You are very punctual, Mr. Crawley," said the bishop. Mr. Crawley
simply bowed his head, still keeping his hands beneath his cloak.
"Will you not take a chair nearer to the fire?" Mr. Crawley had not
seated himself, but had placed himself in front of a chair at the
extreme end of the room,--resolved that he would not use it unless he
were duly asked.

"Thank you, my lord," he said. "I am warm with walking, and, if you
please, will avoid the fire."

"You have not walked, Mr. Crawley?"

"Yes, my lord; I have been walking."

"Not from Hogglestock!"

Now this was a matter which Mr. Crawley certainly did not mean to
discuss with the bishop. It might be well for the bishop to demand
his presence in the palace, but it could be no part of the bishop's
duty to inquire h