LITMIR.BIZ

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      The bishop, with some beating about the bush, made the lady understand that he very much wished to go. The lady, without any beating about the bush, made the bishop understand that she wouldn’t hear of it. It would be useless here to repeat the arguments that were used on each side, and needless to record the result. Those who are married will understand very well how the battle was lost and won, and those who are single will never understand it till they learn the lesson which experience alone can give. When Mrs. Quiverful was shown into Mrs. Proudie’s room, that lady had only returned a few minutes from her lord. But before she left him she had seen the answer to the archbishop’s note written and sealed. No wonder that her face was wreathed with smiles as she received Mrs. Quiverful.

      She instantly spoke of the subject which was so near the heart of her visitor. “Well, Mrs. Quiverful,” said she, “is it decided yet when you are to move into Barchester?”

      “That woman,” as she had an hour or two since been called, became instantly re-endowed with all the graces that can adorn a bishop’s wife. Mrs. Quiverful immediately saw that her business was to be piteous, and that nothing was to be gained by indignation—nothing, indeed, unless she could be indignant in company with her patroness.

      “Oh, Mrs. Proudie,” she began, “I fear we are not to move to Barchester at all.”

      “Why not?” said that lady sharply, dropping at a moment’s notice her smiles and condescension, and turning with her sharp quick way to business which she saw at a glance was important.

      And then Mrs. Quiverful told her tale. As she progressed in the history of her wrongs she perceived that the heavier she leant upon Mr. Slope the blacker became Mrs. Proudie’s brow, but that such blackness was not injurious to her own case. When Mr. Slope was at Puddingdale Vicarage that morning she had regarded him as the creature of the lady-bishop; now she perceived that they were enemies. She admitted her mistake to herself without any pain or humiliation. She had but one feeling, and that was confined to her family. She cared little how she twisted and turned among these newcomers at the bishop’s palace so long as she could twist her husband into the warden’s house. She cared not which was her friend or which was her enemy, if only she could get this preferment which she so sorely wanted.

      She told her tale, and Mrs. Proudie listened to it almost in silence. She told how Mr. Slope had cozened her husband into resigning his claim, and had declared that it was the bishop’s will that none but Mr. Harding should be warden. Mrs. Proudie’s brow became blacker and blacker. At last she started from her chair and, begging Mrs. Quiverful to sit and wait for her return, marched out of the room.

      “Oh, Mrs. Proudie, it’s for fourteen children—for fourteen children.” Such was the burden that fell on her ear as she closed the door behind her.

Chapter XXVI.

       Mrs. Proudie Wrestles and Gets a Fall

       Table of Contents

      It was hardly an hour since Mrs. Proudie had left her husband’s apartment victorious, and yet so indomitable was her courage that she now returned thither panting for another combat. She was greatly angry with what she thought was his duplicity. He had so clearly given her a promise on this matter of the hospital. He had been already so absolutely vanquished on that point. Mrs. Proudie began to feel that if every affair was to be thus discussed and battled about twice and even thrice, the work of the diocese would be too much even for her.

      Without knocking at the door, she walked quickly into her husband’s room and found him seated at his office table, with Mr. Slope opposite to him. Between his fingers was the very note which he had written to the archbishop in her presence—and it was open! Yes, he had absolutely violated the seal which had been made sacred by her approval. They were sitting in deep conclave, and it was too clear that the purport of the archbishop’s invitation had been absolutely canvassed again, after it had been already debated and decided on in obedience to her behests! Mr. Slope rose from his chair and bowed slightly. The two opposing spirits looked each other fully in the face, and they knew that they were looking each at an enemy.

      “What is this, Bishop, about Mr. Quiverful?” said she, coming to the end of the table and standing there.

      Mr. Slope did not allow the bishop to answer but replied himself. “I have been out to Puddingdale this morning, ma’am, and have seen Mr. Quiverful. Mr. Quiverful has abandoned his claim to the hospital because he is now aware that Mr. Harding is desirous to fill his old place. Under these circumstances I have strongly advised his lordship to nominate Mr. Harding.”

      “Mr. Quiverful has not abandoned anything,” said the lady, with a very imperious voice. “His lordship’s word has been pledged to him, and it must be respected.”

      The bishop still remained silent. He was anxiously desirous of making his old enemy bite the dust beneath his feet. His new ally had told him that nothing was more easy for him than to do so. The ally was there now at his elbow to help him, and yet his courage failed him. It is so hard to conquer when the prestige of former victories is all against one. It is so hard for the cock who has once been beaten out of his yard to resume his courage and again take a proud place upon a dunghill.

      “Perhaps I ought not to interfere,” said Mr. Slope, “but yet—”

      “Certainly you ought not,” said the infuriated dame.

      “But yet,” continued Mr. Slope, not regarding the interruption, “I have thought it my imperative duty to recommend the bishop not to slight Mr. Harding’s claims.”

      “Mr. Harding should have known his own mind,” said the lady.

      “If Mr. Harding be not replaced at the hospital, his lordship will have to encounter much ill-will, not only in the diocese, but in the world at large. Besides, taking a higher ground, his lordship, as I understand, feels it to be his duty to gratify, in this matter, so very worthy a man and so good a clergyman as Mr. Harding.”

      “And what is to become of the Sabbath-day school and of the Sunday services in the hospital?” said Mrs. Proudie, with something very nearly approaching to a sneer on her face.

      “I understand that Mr. Harding makes no objection to the Sabbath-day school,” said Mr. Slope. “And as to the hospital services, that matter will be best discussed after his appointment. If he has any permanent objection, then, I fear, the matter must rest.”

      “You have a very easy conscience in such matters, Mr. Slope,” said she.

      “I should not have an easy conscience,” he rejoined, “but a conscience very far from being easy, if anything said or done by me should lead the bishop to act unadvisedly in this matter. It is clear that in the interview I had with Mr. Harding I misunderstood him—”

      “And it is equally clear that you have misunderstood Mr. Quiverful,” said she, now at the top of her wrath. “What business have you at all with these interviews? Who desired you to go to Mr. Quiverful this morning? Who commissioned you to manage this affair? Will you answer me, sir? Who sent you to Mr. Quiverful this morning?”

      There was a dead pause in the room. Mr. Slope had risen from his chair, and was standing with his hand on the back of it, looking at first very solemn and now very black. Mrs. Proudie was standing as she had at first placed herself, at the end of the table, and as she interrogated her foe she struck her hand upon it with almost more than feminine vigour. The bishop was sitting in his easy chair twiddling his thumbs, turning his eyes now to his wife, and now to his chaplain, as each took up the cudgels. How comfortable it would be if they could fight it out between them without the necessity of any interference on his part; fight it out so that one should kill the other utterly, as far as diocesan life was concerned, so that he, the bishop, might know clearly by whom it behoved him to be led. There would be the comfort of quiet in either case; but if the bishop had a wish as to which might prove the victor, that wish was certainly not antagonistic to Mr. Slope.

      “Better

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