fore they
agreed that his name should be linked with that of their daughter."
This she said to the wife of the present warden of Hiram's Hospital,
a lady who had received favours from her, and was therefore bound to
listen attentively to her voice.

"But I hope it may not be true," said Mrs. Quiverful, who, in spite
of the allegiance due by her to Mrs. Proudie, had reasons of her own
for wishing well to the Grantly family.

"I hope so, indeed," said Mrs. Proudie, with a slight tinge of anger
in her voice; "but I fear that there is no doubt. And I must confess
that it is no more than we had a right to expect. I hope that it may
be taken by all of us as a lesson, and an example, and a teaching of
the Lord's mercy. And I wish you would request your husband--from
me, Mrs. Quiverful--to dwell on this subject in morning and evening
lecture at the hospital on Sabbath next, showing how false is the
trust which we put in the good things of this world;" which behest,
to a certain extent, Mr. Quiverful did obey, feeling that a quiet
life in Barchester was of great value to him; but he did not go so
far as to caution his hearers, who consisted of the aged bedesmen of
the hospital, against matrimonial projects of an ambitious nature.
In this case, as in all others of the kind, the report was known to
all the chapter before it had been heard by the archdeacon or his
wife. The dean heard it, and disregarded it; as did also the dean's
wife--at first; and those who generally sided with the Grantlys in
the diocesan battles pooh-poohed the tidings, saying to each other
that both the archdeacon and Mrs. Grantly were very well able to take
care of their own affairs. But dripping water hollows a stone; and at
last it was admitted on all sides that there was ground for fear,--on
all sides, except at Plumstead.

"I am sure there is nothing in it; I really am sure of it," said Mrs.
Arabin, whispering to her sister; "but after turning it over in my
mind, I thought it right to tell you. And yet I don't know now but I
am wrong."

"Quite right, dearest Eleanor," said Mrs. Grantly. "And I am much
obliged to you. But we understand it, you know. It comes, of course,
like all other Christian blessings, from the palace." And then there
was nothing more said about it between Mrs. Grantly and her sister.
But on the following morning there arrived a letter by post,
addressed to Mrs. Grantly, bearing the postmark of Littlebath. The
letter ran:--