papa’s friends could do; and yet, because he is the chaplain of a bishop whom you don’t like, you speak of him as though he had no right to the usage of a gentleman.’

‘He has done nothing for your father.’

‘I believe that he has done a great deal; and, as far as I am concerned, I am grateful to him. I judge people by their acts, and his, as far as I can see them, are good.’ She then paused for a moment. ‘If you have nothing further to say, I shall be obliged by being permitted to say good night—I am very tired.’

Dr Grantly had, as he thought, done his best to be gracious to his sister–in–law. He had endeavoured not to be harsh with her, and had striven to pluck the sting from his rebuke. But he did not intend that she should leave him without hearing him.

‘I have something to say, Eleanor; and I fear I must trouble you to hear it. You profess that it is quite proper that you should receive from Mr Slope such letters as that you have in your hand. Susan and I think very differently. You are, of course, your own mistress, and much as we both must grieve should anything separate you from us, we have no power to prevent you from taking steps which may lead to such a separation. If you are so wilful as to reject the counsel of your friends, you must be allowed to cater for yourself. Is it worth you while to break away from all those you have loved—from all who love you—for the sake of Mr Slope?’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Dr Grantly; I don’t know what you are talking about. I don’t want to break away from anybody.’

‘But you will do so if you connect yourself with Mr Slope. Eleanor, I must speak out to you. You must choose between your sister and myself and our friends, and Mr Slope and his friends. I say nothing of your father, as you may probably understand his feelings better than I do.’

‘What do you mean, Dr Grantly? What am I to understand? I never heard such wicked prejudice in my life.’

‘It is no prejudice, Eleanor. I have known the world longer than you have done. Mr Slope is altogether beneath you. You ought to know and feel that he is so. Pray—pray think of this before it is too late.’

‘Too late!’

‘Or if you will not believe me, ask Susan; you cannot think she is prejudiced against you. Or even consult your father, he is not prejudiced against you. Ask Mr Arabin—’

‘You haven’t spoken to Mr Arabin about this!’ said she, jumping up and standing before him.

‘Eleanor, all the world in and about Barchester will be speaking of it soon.’

‘But you have spoken to Mr Arabin about me and Mr Slope?’

‘Certainly I have, and he quite agrees with me.’

‘Agree with what?’ said she. ‘I think you are trying to drive me mad.’

‘He agrees with me and Susan that it is quite impossible you should be received at Plumstead as Mrs Slope.’

Not being favourites with the tragic muse we do not dare to attempt any description of Eleanor’s face when she first heard the name of Mrs Slope pronounced as that which would or should or might at some time appertain to herself. The look, such as it was, Dr Grantly did not soon forget. For a moment or two


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