‘Oh, Madeline,’ said Charlotte, ‘I want to speak to you particularly; we must arrange about the carriage, you know,’ and she stooped down to whisper to her sister. Mr Arabin immediately withdrew to a little distance, and as Charlotte had in fact much to explain before she could make the new arrangement intelligible, he had nothing to do but to talk to Mrs Bold.

‘We have had a very pleasant party,’ said he, using the tone he would have used had he declared that the sun was shining very brightly, or the rain was falling very fast.

‘Very,’ said Eleanor, who never in her life had passed a more unpleasant day.

‘I hope Mr Harding has enjoyed himself.’

‘Oh, yes, very much,’ said Eleanor, who had not seen her father since she parted from him soon after her arrival.

‘He returns to Barchester to–night, I suppose.’

‘Yes, I believe so; that is, I think he is staying at Plumstead.’

‘Oh, staying at Plumstead,’ said Mr Arabin.

‘He came from there this morning. I believe he is going back; he didn’t exactly say, however.’

‘I hope Mrs Grantly is quite well.’

‘She seemed to be quite well. She is here; that is, unless she has gone away.’

‘Oh, yes, to be sure. I was talking to her. Looking very well indeed.’ Then there was a considerable pause: for Charlotte could not at once make Madeline understand why she was to be sent home in a hurry without her brother.

‘Are you returning to Plumstead, Mrs Bold?’ Mr Arabin merely asked this by way of making conversation, but he immediately perceived that he was approaching dangerous ground.

‘No,’ said Mrs Bold, very quietly; ‘I am going home to Barchester.’

‘Oh, ah, yes. I had forgotten that you had returned.’ And then Mr Arabin, finding it impossible to say anything further, stood silent till Charlotte had completed her plans, and Mrs Bold stood equally silent, intently occupied as it appeared in the arrangement of her rings.

And yet these two people were thoroughly in love with each other; and though one was a middle–aged clergyman, and the other a lady at any rate past the wishy–washy bread–and–butter period of life, they were as unable to tell their own minds to each other as any Damon and Phillis, whose united ages would not make up that to which Mr Arabin had already attained.

Madeline Neroni consented to her sister’s proposal, and then the two ladies again went off in quest of Bertie Stanhope.