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Something of the truth made its way into Henry Grantly's mind as he drove home from Barchester after seeing his grandfather. It was not that he began to think that his father was right, but that he almost perceived that it might be becoming in him to forgive some fault in his father.
In olden days one of these had been Bishop Grantly's bedroom, and another his common sitting-room and study. The present bishop, however, had been moved down into a back parlour and had been given to understand that he could very well receive his clergy in the dining-room, should they arrive in too large a flock to be admitted into his small sanctum.
He remembered perfectly well that the girl had said more than this, that she had not confined her assurance to the verdict of a jury, that she had protested that she would not accept Major Grantly's hand as long as people thought that her father had stolen the cheque; but the archdeacon felt that it would be ignoble to hold her closely to her words.
Then he swung round again, and went down the stairway shouting, "Horton!" until a man came out from a shed at the back of the store. "Well," he said, "I'm here. You needn't raise the whole place, Harry." Alton laughed. "I've been up to Grantly's, and he's going in to the railroad to-morrow. You can send that order for the crockery along with him. Dollars are no object so long as it's pretty.
I am inclined to think he did not quite wink; but that without such, perhaps, unseemly gesture he communicated to Mr Chadwick, with the corner of his eye, intimation that, deep as was Mrs Grantly's interest in the matter, it should not procure for her a perusal of that document; and at the same time he partly opened the small drawer, above spoken of, deposited the paper on the volume of Rabelais, and showed to Mr Chadwick the nature of the key which guarded these hidden treasures.
Grantly's joy, it was soon dispelled by the perfect success of her daughter's married life. At the end of the autumn the bride and bridegroom returned from their tour, and it was evident to all the circle at Hartletop Priory that Lord Dumbello was by no means dissatisfied with his bargain. His wife had been admired everywhere to the top of his bent.
In the first place, he should never again preach from the pulpit of Barchester cathedral. This was Dr. Grantly's earliest dictum, and they all agreed, providing only that they had the power to exclude him. Dr. Grantly declared that the power rested with the dean and chapter, observing that no clergyman out of the chapter had a claim to preach there, saving only the bishop himself.
The elder Lady Lufton and the younger, and Mrs Robarts had continually been in consultation on the subject; Mrs Grantly's opinion had been asked and given; and even the Miss Prettymans and Mrs Walker had found means of expressing themselves. The communications to Mrs Crawley had been very frequent, though they had not of course been allowed to reach the ears of Mr Crawley.
Mr Harding felt this; and felt also that when the archdeacon talked thus about his roof, what he said was most offensive to himself as Eleanor's father. If Eleanor did receive a letter from Mr Slope, what was there in that to pollute the purity of Dr Grantly's household.
Harding slowly folded the letter, handed it back to her, kissed her forehead, and bade God bless her. He then crept slowly away to his own room. As soon as he had left the passage, another knock was given at Eleanor's door, and Mrs. Grantly's very demure own maid, entering on tiptoe, wanted to know would Mrs.
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