It was with such resolve as this that he reached Barchester. He would at once ascertain what the truth might be as to the lady’s wealth, and having done this, he would be ruled by circumstances in his conduct respecting the hospital. If he found that he could turn round and secure the place for Mr Harding without much self–sacrifice, he would do so; but if not, he would woo the daughter in opposition to the father. But in no case would he succumb to the archdeacon.

He saw his horse taken round to the stable, and immediately went forth to commence his inquiries. To give Mr Slope his due, he was not a man who ever let much grass grow under his feet.

Poor Eleanor! She was doomed to be the intended victim of more schemes than one.

About the time that Mr Slope was visiting the vicar of Puddingdale, a discussion took place respecting her charms and wealth at Dr Stanhope’s house in the close. There had been morning callers there, and people had told some truth and also some falsehood respecting the property which John Bold had left behind him. By degrees the visitors went, and as the doctor went with them, and as the doctor’s wife had not made her appearance, Charlotte Stanhope and her brother were left together. He was sitting idly at the table, scrawling caricatures of Barchester notable, then yawning, then turning over a book or two, and evidently at a loss how kill some time without much labour.

‘You haven’t done much, Bertie, about getting any orders,’ said his sister.

‘Orders!’ said he; ‘who on earth is there at Barchester to give some orders? Who among the people here could possibly think it worth his while to have his head done into marble?’

‘Then you mean to give up your profession,’ said she.

‘No, I don’t,’ said he, going on with some absurd portrait of the bishop. ‘Look at that, Lotte; isn’t it the little man all over, apron and all? I’d go on with my profession at once, as you call it, if the governor would set me up with a studio in London; but as to sculpture at Barchester—I suppose half the people here don’t know what a torso means.’

‘The governor will not give you a shilling to start you in London,’ said Lotte. ‘Indeed, he can’t give you what would be sufficient, for he has not got it. But you might start yourself very well, if you pleased.’

‘How the deuce am I to do it?’ said he.

‘To tell you the truth, Bertie, you’ll never make a penny by any profession.’

‘That’s what I often think myself,’ said he, not in the least offended. ‘Some men have a great gift of making money, but they can’t spend it. Others can’t put two shillings together, but they have a great talent for all sorts of outlay. I begin to think that my genius is wholly in the latter line.’

‘How do you mean to live then?’ asked the sister.

‘I suppose I must regard myself as a young raven, and look for heavenly manna; besides, we have all got something when the governor goes.’

‘Yes—you’ll have enough to supply yourself with gloves and boots; that is, if the Jews have not got the possession of it all. I believe they have the most of it already. I wonder, Bertie, at your indifference; that you, with your talents and personal advantages, should never try to settle yourself in life. I look forward with dread to the time when the governor must go. Mother, and Madeline, and I,—we shall be poor enough, but you will have absolutely nothing.’

‘Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof,’ said Bertie.

‘Will you take my advice?’ said the sister.