Barchester Towers [207]
authority as at the present moment. I, for one, Dr Gwynne--'
'Dr Gwynne,' said Mr Slope, raising his hat, and resolving not to be outwitted by such an insignificant little goose as the bishop of Barchester.
The master of Lazarus also raised his hat and bowed very politely to Mr Slope. There is not a more courteous gentleman in the queen's dominions than the master of Lazarus.
'My lord,' said Mr Slope, 'pray do me the honour of introducing me to Dr Gwynne. The opportunity is too much in my favour to be lost.'
The bishop had no help for it. 'My chaplain, Dr Gwynne,' said he; 'my present chaplain, Mr Slope.' he certainly made the introduction as unsatisfactory to the chaplain as possible, and by the use of the word present, seemed to indicate that Mr Slope might probably not long enjoy the honour which he now held. But Mr Slope cared nothing for this. He understood the innuendo, and disregarded it. It might probably come to pass that he would be in a situation to resign his chaplaincy before the bishop was in a situation to dismiss him from it. What need the future dean of Barchester care for the bishop, or for the bishop's wife? Had not Mr Slope, just as he was entering Dr Stanhope's carriage, received an important note from Tom Towers of the Jupiter? Had he not that note this moment in his pocket?
So disregarding the bishop, he began to open out a conversation with the master of Lazarus.
But suddenly and interruption came, not altogether unwelcome to Mr Slope. One of the bishop's servants came up to his master's shoulder with a long, grave face, and whispered into the bishop's ear.
'What is it, John?' said the bishop.
'The dean, my lord; he is dead.'
Mr Slope had no further desire to converse with the master of Lazarus, and was very soon on his road back to Barchester.
Eleanor, as we have said, having declared her intention of never holding further communication with Mr Slope, ran hurriedly back towards the house. The thought, however, of what she had done grieved her greatly, and she could not abstain from bursting into tears. 'Twas thus she played the second act in that day's melodrama.
CHAPTER XLI
MRS BOLD CONFIDES HER SORROW TO HER FRIEND MISS STANHOPE
When Mrs Bold came to the end of the walk and faced the lawn, she began to bethink herself what she should do. Was she to wait there till Mr Slope caught her, or was she to go in among the crowd with tears in her eyes and passion in her face? She might in truth have stood there long enough without any reasonable fear of further immediate persecution from Mr Slope; but we are all inclined to magnify the bugbears which frighten us. In her present state of dread she did not know of what atrocity he might venture to be guilty. Had any one told her a week ago that he would have put his arm around her waist at the party of Miss Thorne's she would have been utterly incredulous. Had she been informed that he would be seen on the following Sunday walking down the High Street in a scarlet coat and top-boots, she would not have thought such a phenomenon more improbable.
But this improbable iniquity he had committed; and now there was nothing she could not believe of him. In the first place it was quite manifest that he was tipsy; in the next place, it was to be taken as proved that all his religion was sheer hypocrisy; and finally the man was utterly shameless. She therefore stood watching for the sound of his footfall, not without some fear that he might creep out at her suddenly from among the bushes.
As she thus stood, she saw Charlotte Stanhope at a little distance from her walking quickly across the grass. Eleanor's handkerchief was in her hand, and putting it to her face so as to conceal her tears, she ran across the lawn and joined her friend.
'Oh, Charlotte,' she said, almost too much out of breath to speak very plainly; 'I am so glad I have found you.'
'Glad you have found me!' said Charlotte, laughing, 'that's a good joke. Why Bertie and I have been looking for you everywhere. He swears that you have gone off with Mr
'Dr Gwynne,' said Mr Slope, raising his hat, and resolving not to be outwitted by such an insignificant little goose as the bishop of Barchester.
The master of Lazarus also raised his hat and bowed very politely to Mr Slope. There is not a more courteous gentleman in the queen's dominions than the master of Lazarus.
'My lord,' said Mr Slope, 'pray do me the honour of introducing me to Dr Gwynne. The opportunity is too much in my favour to be lost.'
The bishop had no help for it. 'My chaplain, Dr Gwynne,' said he; 'my present chaplain, Mr Slope.' he certainly made the introduction as unsatisfactory to the chaplain as possible, and by the use of the word present, seemed to indicate that Mr Slope might probably not long enjoy the honour which he now held. But Mr Slope cared nothing for this. He understood the innuendo, and disregarded it. It might probably come to pass that he would be in a situation to resign his chaplaincy before the bishop was in a situation to dismiss him from it. What need the future dean of Barchester care for the bishop, or for the bishop's wife? Had not Mr Slope, just as he was entering Dr Stanhope's carriage, received an important note from Tom Towers of the Jupiter? Had he not that note this moment in his pocket?
So disregarding the bishop, he began to open out a conversation with the master of Lazarus.
But suddenly and interruption came, not altogether unwelcome to Mr Slope. One of the bishop's servants came up to his master's shoulder with a long, grave face, and whispered into the bishop's ear.
'What is it, John?' said the bishop.
'The dean, my lord; he is dead.'
Mr Slope had no further desire to converse with the master of Lazarus, and was very soon on his road back to Barchester.
Eleanor, as we have said, having declared her intention of never holding further communication with Mr Slope, ran hurriedly back towards the house. The thought, however, of what she had done grieved her greatly, and she could not abstain from bursting into tears. 'Twas thus she played the second act in that day's melodrama.
CHAPTER XLI
MRS BOLD CONFIDES HER SORROW TO HER FRIEND MISS STANHOPE
When Mrs Bold came to the end of the walk and faced the lawn, she began to bethink herself what she should do. Was she to wait there till Mr Slope caught her, or was she to go in among the crowd with tears in her eyes and passion in her face? She might in truth have stood there long enough without any reasonable fear of further immediate persecution from Mr Slope; but we are all inclined to magnify the bugbears which frighten us. In her present state of dread she did not know of what atrocity he might venture to be guilty. Had any one told her a week ago that he would have put his arm around her waist at the party of Miss Thorne's she would have been utterly incredulous. Had she been informed that he would be seen on the following Sunday walking down the High Street in a scarlet coat and top-boots, she would not have thought such a phenomenon more improbable.
But this improbable iniquity he had committed; and now there was nothing she could not believe of him. In the first place it was quite manifest that he was tipsy; in the next place, it was to be taken as proved that all his religion was sheer hypocrisy; and finally the man was utterly shameless. She therefore stood watching for the sound of his footfall, not without some fear that he might creep out at her suddenly from among the bushes.
As she thus stood, she saw Charlotte Stanhope at a little distance from her walking quickly across the grass. Eleanor's handkerchief was in her hand, and putting it to her face so as to conceal her tears, she ran across the lawn and joined her friend.
'Oh, Charlotte,' she said, almost too much out of breath to speak very plainly; 'I am so glad I have found you.'
'Glad you have found me!' said Charlotte, laughing, 'that's a good joke. Why Bertie and I have been looking for you everywhere. He swears that you have gone off with Mr