 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 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
