‘I understood you to say that the bishop had authorised you to offer it to me.’

‘Did I? Did I go so far as that? Well, perhaps it may be, that in my anxiety on your behalf I did commit myself further than I should have done. So far as my own memory serves me, I don’t think I did go quite so far as that. But I own I was very anxious that you should get it; and I may have said more than was quite prudent.’

‘But,’ said Mr Quiverful, in his deep anxiety to prove his case, ‘my wife received as distinct a promise from Mrs Proudie as one human being could give to another.’

Mr Slope smiled, and gently shook his head. He meant that smile for a pleasant smile, but it was diabolical in the eyes of the man he was speaking to. ‘Mrs Proudie!’ he said. ‘If we are to go to what passes between the ladies in these matters, we shall really be in a nest of troubles from which we shall never extricate ourselves. Mrs Proudie is a most excellent lady, kind–hearted, charitable, pious, and in every way estimable. But, my dear Mr Quiverful, the patronage of the diocese is not in her hands.’

Mr Quiverful for a moment sat panic–stricken and silent. ‘Am I to understand, then, that I have received no promise?’ he said, as soon as he had sufficiently collected his thoughts.

‘If you will allow me, I will tell you exactly how the matter rests. You certainly did receive a promise conditional on Mr Harding’s refusal. I am sure you will do me the justice to remember that you yourself declared that you could accept the appointment on no other condition than the knowledge that Mr Harding had declined it.’

‘Yes,’ said Mr Quiverful; ‘I did say that, certainly.’

‘Well; it now appears that he did not refuse it.’

‘But surely you told me, and repeated it more than once, that he had done so in your hearing.’

‘So I understood him. But it seems I was in error. But don’t for a moment, Mr Quiverful, suppose that I mean to throw you over. No. Having held out my hand to a man in your position, with your large family and pressing claims, I am not now going to draw it back again. I only want you to act with me fairly and honestly.’

‘Whatever I do, I shall endeavour at any rate to act fairly,’ said the poor man, feeling that he had to fall back for support on the spirit of martyrdom within him.

‘I am sure you will,’ said the other. ‘I am sure you have no wish to obtain possession of an income which belongs by all rights to another. No man knows better than you do Mr Harding’s history, or can better appreciate his character. Mr Harding is very desirous of returning to his old position, and the bishop feels that he is at the present moment somewhat hampered, though of course he is not bound, by the conversation which took place on the matter between you and me.’

‘Well,’ said Mr Quiverful, dreadfully doubtful as to what his conduct under such circumstances should be, and fruitlessly striving to harden his nerves with some of that instinct of self–preservation which made his wife so bold.

‘The wardenship of this little hospital is not the only thing in the bishop’s gift, Mr Quiverful, nor is it by many degrees the best. And his lordship is not the man to forget any one whom he has once marked with approval. If you would allow me to advise you as a friend—’

‘Indeed I shall be grateful to you,’ said the poor vicar of Puddingdale—

‘I should advise you to withdraw from any opposition to Mr Harding’s claims. If you persist in your demand, I do not think you will ultimately succeed. Mr Harding has all but a positive right to the place. But if you