nd the archdeacon was cross.
"Henry," he said, "you haven't a word to throw to a dog." "I've got
rather a headache this evening, sir," said the major. The archdeacon
drank two glasses of wine, one after another, quickly. Then he woke
his father-in-law gently, and went off. "Is there anything the
matter?" asked the old man. "Nothing particular. My father seems
a little cross." "Ah! I've been to sleep, and I oughtn't. It's my
fault. We'll go in and smooth him down." But the archdeacon wouldn't
be smoothed down on that occasion. He would let his son see the
difference between a father pleased, and a father displeased,--or
rather between a father pleasant, and a father unpleasant. "He hasn't
said anything to you, has he?" said the archdeacon that night to his
wife. "Not a word;--as yet." "If he does it without the courage to
tell us, I shall think him a cur," said the archdeacon. "But he did
tell you," said Mrs. Grantly, standing up for her favourite son; "and,
for the matter of that, he has courage enough for anything. If he
does it, I shall always say that he has been driven to it by your
threats."

"That's sheer nonsense," said the archdeacon.

"It's not nonsense at all," said Mrs. Grantly.

"Then I suppose I was to hold my tongue and say nothing?" said the
archdeacon; and as he spoke he banged the door between his
dressing-room and Mrs. Grantly's bedroom.

On the first day of the new year Major Grantly spoke his mind to
his mother. The archdeacon had gone into Barchester, having in vain
attempted to induce his son to go with him. Mr. Harding was in the
library reading a little and sleeping a little, and dreaming of
old days and old friends, and perhaps, sometimes, of the old wine.
Mrs. Grantly was alone in a small sitting-room which she frequented
upstairs, when suddenly her son entered the room. "Mother," he said,
"I think it better to tell you that I am going to Allington."

"To Allington, Henry?" She knew very well who was at Allington, and
what must be the business which would take him there.

"Yes, mother. Miss Crawley is there, and there are circumstances
which make it incumbent on me to see her without delay."

"What circumstances, Henry?"

"As I intend to ask her to be my wife, I think it best to do so now.
I owe it to her and to myself that she should not think that I am
deterred by her father's position."

"But would it not be reasonable that you should be deterred by her
father's position?"

"No