she could find no words to express her deep anger and deep disgust; and, indeed, at this conjuncture, words did not come to her very freely.

‘How dare you be so impertinent?’ at last she said; and then hurried out of the room, without giving the archdeacon the opportunity of uttering another word. It was with difficulty that she contained herself till she reached her own room; and then, locking the door, she threw herself on her bed and sobbed as though her heart would break.

But even yet she had no conception of the truth. She had no idea that her father and sister had for days past conceived in sober earnest the idea that she was going to marry the man. She did not even then believe that the archdeacon thought that she would do so. By some manoeuvre of her brain, she attributed the origin of the accusation to Mr Arabin, and as she did so her anger against him was excessive, and the vexation of her spirit almost unendurable. She could not bring herself to think the charge was made seriously. It appeared to her most probable that the archdeacon and Mr Arabin had talked over her objectionable acquaintance with Mr Slope; that Mr Arabin, in his jeering sarcastic way, had suggested the odious match as being the severest way of treating with contumely her acquaintance with his enemy; and that the archdeacon, taking the idea from him, thought proper to punish her by the allusion. The whole night she lay awake thinking of what had been said, and this appeared to be the most probable solution.

But the reflection that Mr Arabin should have in any way mentioned her name in connection with that of Mr Slope was overpowering; and the spiteful ill–nature of the archdeacon, in repeating the charge to her, made her wish to leave his house almost before the day had broken. One thing was certain: nothing should make her stay there beyond the following morning, and nothing should make her sit down in company with Dr Grantly. When she thought of the man whose name had been linked with her own, she cried from sheer disgust. It was only because she would be thus disgusted, thus pained, and shocked and cut to the quick, that the archdeacon had spoken the horrid word. He wanted her to make her quarrel with Mr Slope, and therefore he had outraged her by his abominable vulgarity. She determined that at any rate he should know that she appreciated it.

Nor was the archdeacon a bit better satisfied with the result of his serious interview than was Eleanor. He gathered from it, as indeed he could hardly fail to do, that she was very angry with him; but he thought that she was thus angry, not because she was suspected of an intention to marry Mr Slope, but because such an intention was imputed to her as a crime. Dr Grantly regarded this supposed union with disgust; but it never occurred to him that Eleanor was outraged, because she looked at it exactly in the same light.

He returned to his wife vexed and somewhat disconsolate, but, nevertheless, confirmed in his wrath against his sister–in–law. ‘Her whole behaviour,’ said he, ‘has been most objectionable. She handed me his love letter to read as though she were proud of it. And she is proud of it. She is proud of having this slavering, greedy man at her feet. She will throw herself and John Bold’s money into his lap; she will ruin her boy, disgrace her father and you, and be a wretched miserable woman.’

His spouse who was sitting at her toilet table, continued her avocations, making no answer to all this. She had known that the archdeacon would gain nothing be interfering; but she was too charitable to provoke him by saying so while he was in such deep sorrow.

‘This comes of a man making a will as that of Bold’s’ he continued. ‘Eleanor is no more fitted to be trusted with such an amount of money in her own hands than is a charity–school girl.’ Still Mrs Grantly made no reply. ‘But I have done my duty; I can do nothing further. I have told her plainly that she cannot be allowed to form a link of connection between me and that man. From henceforward it will not be in my power to make her welcome at Plumstead. I cannot have Mr Slope’s love letters coming here. I think you have better let her understand that as her mind on this subject seems to be irrevocably fixed, it will be better for all parties that she should return to Barchester.

Now Mrs Grantly was angry with Eleanor, nearly as angry as her husband; but she had no idea of turning her sister out of the house. She, therefore, at length spoke out, and explained to the archdeacon in