Barchester Towers [228]
appointed to the hospital.
In the evening her father came to her, and then the story, or as much of it as she could bring herself to tell him, had to be repeated. He was not in truth much surprised at Mr Slope's effrontery; but he was obliged to act as though he had been, to save his daughter's feelings. He was, however, anything but skilful in his deceit, and she saw through it.
'I see,' said she, 'that you think it only the common course of things that Mr Slope should have treated me in this way.'
She had said nothing to him about the embrace, nor yet of the way in which it had been met.
'I do not think it at all strange,' said he, 'that any one should admire my Eleanor.'
'It is strange to me,' said she, 'that any man should have so much audacity, without ever having received the slightest encouragement.'
To this Mr Harding answered nothing. With the archdeacon it would have been the text for a rejoinder, which would not have disgraced Bildad the Shuhite.
'But you'll tell the archdeacon,' asked Mr Harding.
'Tell him what?' said she sharply.
'Or Susan?' continued Mr Harding. 'You'll tell Susan; you'll let them know that they wronged you in supposing that this man's addresses would be agreeable to you.'
'They may find out their own way,' said she; 'I shall not ever willingly mention Mr Slope's name to either of them.'
'But I may.'
'I have no right to hinder you from doing anything that may be necessary to your own comfort, but pray do not do it for my sake. Dr Grantly never thought well of me, and never will. I don't know now that I an even anxious that he should do so.'
And then they went to the affair of the hospital. 'But is it true, papa?'
'What, my dear,' said he. 'About the dean? Yes, I fear quite true. Indeed, I know there is no doubt about it.'
'Poor Miss Trefoil. I am so sorry for her. But I did not mean that,' said Eleanor. 'But about the hospital, papa?
'Yes, my dear. I believe it is true that Mr Quiverful is to have it.'
'Oh, what a shame!'
'No, my dear, not at all, not at all a shame: I am sure I hope it will suit him.'
'But, papa, you know it is a shame. After all your hopes, all your expectations to get back your old house, to see it given away in this way to a perfect stranger!'
'My dear, the bishop had a right to give it to whom he pleased.'
'I deny that, papa. He had no such right. It is not as though you were a candidate for a new piece of preferment. If the bishop has a grain of justice--'
'The bishop offered it to me on his terms, and as I did not like the terms, I refused it. After that, I cannot complain.'
'Terms! He had not right to make terms.'
'I don't know about that; but it seems he had the power. But to tell you the truth, Nelly, I am as well satisfied as it is. When the affair became the subject of angry discussion, I thoroughly wished to be rid of it altogether.'
'But you did want to go back to the old house, papa. You told me so yourself.'
'Yes, my child, I did. For a short time I did wish it. And I was foolish in doing so. I am getting old now; and my chief worldly wish is for peace and rest. Had I gone back to the hospital, I should have had the endless contentions with the bishop, contentions with his chaplain, and contentions with the archdeacon. I am not up to this now, I am not able to meet such troubles; and therefore I am not ill-pleased to find myself left to the little church of St Cuthbert's. I shall never starve,' added he, laughing 'as long as you are here.'
'But if you will come and live with me, papa?' she said earnestly, taking him by both his hands. 'If you will do that, if you will promise that, I will own that you are right.'
'I will dine with you to-day, at any rate.'
'No, but live here altogether. Give up that close, odious little room in High Street.'
'My dear, it's a very nice little room; and you are really quite uncivil.'
'Oh, papa, don't joke. It's not a nice place for you. You say you are growing old, though I am sure you are not.'
'Am I not, my dear?'
'No, papa, not
In the evening her father came to her, and then the story, or as much of it as she could bring herself to tell him, had to be repeated. He was not in truth much surprised at Mr Slope's effrontery; but he was obliged to act as though he had been, to save his daughter's feelings. He was, however, anything but skilful in his deceit, and she saw through it.
'I see,' said she, 'that you think it only the common course of things that Mr Slope should have treated me in this way.'
She had said nothing to him about the embrace, nor yet of the way in which it had been met.
'I do not think it at all strange,' said he, 'that any one should admire my Eleanor.'
'It is strange to me,' said she, 'that any man should have so much audacity, without ever having received the slightest encouragement.'
To this Mr Harding answered nothing. With the archdeacon it would have been the text for a rejoinder, which would not have disgraced Bildad the Shuhite.
'But you'll tell the archdeacon,' asked Mr Harding.
'Tell him what?' said she sharply.
'Or Susan?' continued Mr Harding. 'You'll tell Susan; you'll let them know that they wronged you in supposing that this man's addresses would be agreeable to you.'
'They may find out their own way,' said she; 'I shall not ever willingly mention Mr Slope's name to either of them.'
'But I may.'
'I have no right to hinder you from doing anything that may be necessary to your own comfort, but pray do not do it for my sake. Dr Grantly never thought well of me, and never will. I don't know now that I an even anxious that he should do so.'
And then they went to the affair of the hospital. 'But is it true, papa?'
'What, my dear,' said he. 'About the dean? Yes, I fear quite true. Indeed, I know there is no doubt about it.'
'Poor Miss Trefoil. I am so sorry for her. But I did not mean that,' said Eleanor. 'But about the hospital, papa?
'Yes, my dear. I believe it is true that Mr Quiverful is to have it.'
'Oh, what a shame!'
'No, my dear, not at all, not at all a shame: I am sure I hope it will suit him.'
'But, papa, you know it is a shame. After all your hopes, all your expectations to get back your old house, to see it given away in this way to a perfect stranger!'
'My dear, the bishop had a right to give it to whom he pleased.'
'I deny that, papa. He had no such right. It is not as though you were a candidate for a new piece of preferment. If the bishop has a grain of justice--'
'The bishop offered it to me on his terms, and as I did not like the terms, I refused it. After that, I cannot complain.'
'Terms! He had not right to make terms.'
'I don't know about that; but it seems he had the power. But to tell you the truth, Nelly, I am as well satisfied as it is. When the affair became the subject of angry discussion, I thoroughly wished to be rid of it altogether.'
'But you did want to go back to the old house, papa. You told me so yourself.'
'Yes, my child, I did. For a short time I did wish it. And I was foolish in doing so. I am getting old now; and my chief worldly wish is for peace and rest. Had I gone back to the hospital, I should have had the endless contentions with the bishop, contentions with his chaplain, and contentions with the archdeacon. I am not up to this now, I am not able to meet such troubles; and therefore I am not ill-pleased to find myself left to the little church of St Cuthbert's. I shall never starve,' added he, laughing 'as long as you are here.'
'But if you will come and live with me, papa?' she said earnestly, taking him by both his hands. 'If you will do that, if you will promise that, I will own that you are right.'
'I will dine with you to-day, at any rate.'
'No, but live here altogether. Give up that close, odious little room in High Street.'
'My dear, it's a very nice little room; and you are really quite uncivil.'
'Oh, papa, don't joke. It's not a nice place for you. You say you are growing old, though I am sure you are not.'
'Am I not, my dear?'
'No, papa, not