‘They may find out their own way,’ said she; ‘I shall not ever willingly mention Mr Slope’s name to either of them.’

‘But I may.’

‘I have no right to hinder you from doing anything that may be necessary to your own comfort, but pray do not do it for my sake. Dr Grantly never thought well of me, and never will. I don’t know now that I an even anxious that he should do so.’

And then they went to the affair of the hospital. ‘But is it true, papa?’

‘What, my dear,’ said he. ‘About the dean? Yes, I fear quite true. Indeed, I know there is no doubt about it.’

‘Poor Miss Trefoil. I am so sorry for her. But I did not mean that,’ said Eleanor. ‘But about the hospital, papa?

‘Yes, my dear. I believe it is true that Mr Quiverful is to have it.’

‘Oh, what a shame!’

‘No, my dear, not at all, not at all a shame: I am sure I hope it will suit him.’

‘But, papa, you know it is a shame. After all your hopes, all your expectations to get back your old house, to see it given away in this way to a perfect stranger!’

‘My dear, the bishop had a right to give it to whom he pleased.’

‘I deny that, papa. He had no such right. It is not as though you were a candidate for a new piece of preferment. If the bishop has a grain of justice—’

‘The bishop offered it to me on his terms, and as I did not like the terms, I refused it. After that, I cannot complain.’

‘Terms! He had not right to make terms.’

‘I don’t know about that; but it seems he had the power. But to tell you the truth, Nelly, I am as well satisfied as it is. When the affair became the subject of angry discussion, I thoroughly wished to be rid of it altogether.’

‘But you did want to go back to the old house, papa. You told me so yourself.’

‘Yes, my child, I did. For a short time I did wish it. And I was foolish in doing so. I am getting old now; and my chief worldly wish is for peace and rest. Had I gone back to the hospital, I should have had the endless contentions with the bishop, contentions with his chaplain, and contentions with the archdeacon. I am not up to this now, I am not able to meet such troubles; and therefore I am not ill–pleased to find myself left to the little church of St Cuthbert’s. I shall never starve,’ added he, laughing ‘as long as you are here.’

‘But if you will come and live with me, papa?’ she said earnestly, taking him by both his hands. ‘If you will do that, if you will promise that, I will own that you are right.’

‘I will dine with you to–day, at any rate.’

‘No, but live here altogether. Give up that close, odious little room in High Street.’

‘My dear, it’s a very nice little room; and you are really quite uncivil.’