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Page 39
Oh, what a sigh the bishop gave! "My lord, I hope you agree with me,"
again repeated the merciless tyrant.
"Yes, I suppose so," groaned the poor old man, slowly.
"And you, warden?"
Mr Harding was now stirred to action;--he must speak and move, so he
got up and took one turn before he answered.
"Do not press me for an answer just at present; I will do nothing
lightly in the matter, and of whatever I do I will give you and the
bishop notice." And so without another word he took his leave,
escaping quickly through the palace hall, and down the lofty steps;
nor did he breathe freely till he found himself alone under the huge
elms of the silent close. Here he walked long and slowly, thinking
on his case with a troubled air, and trying in vain to confute the
archdeacon's argument. He then went home, resolved to bear it
all,--ignominy, suspense, disgrace, self-doubt, and heart-burning,--
and to do as those would have him, who he still believed were most fit
and most able to counsel him aright.
Chapter X
TRIBULATION
Mr Harding was a sadder man than he had ever yet been when he returned
to his own house. He had been wretched enough on that well-remembered
morning when he was forced to expose before his son-in-law the
publisher's account for ushering into the world his dear book
of sacred music: when after making such payments as he could do
unassisted, he found that he was a debtor of more than three hundred
pounds; but his sufferings then were as nothing to his present
misery;--then he had done wrong, and he knew it, and was able to
resolve that he would not sin in like manner again; but now he could
make no resolution, and comfort himself by no promises of firmness.
He had been forced to think that his lot had placed him in a false
position, and he was about to maintain that position against the
opinion of the world and against his own convictions.
He had read with pity, amounting almost to horror, the strictures
which had appeared from time to time against the Earl of Guildford as
master of St Cross, and the invectives that had been heaped on rich
diocesan dignitaries and overgrown sinecure pluralists. In judging of
them, he judged leniently; the whole bias of his profession had taught
him to think that they were more sinned against than sinning, and
that the animosity with which they had been pursued was venomous
and unjust; but he had not the less regarded their plight as most
miserable. His hair had stood on end and his flesh had crept as
he read the things which had been written; he had wondered how men
could live under such a load of disgrace; how they could face their
fellow-creatures while their names were bandied about so injuriously
and so publicly;--and now this lot was to be his,--he, that shy,
retiring man, who had so comforted himself in the hidden obscurity of
his lot, who had so enjoyed the unassuming warmth of his own little
corner,--he was now dragged forth into the glaring day, and gibbeted
before ferocious multitudes. He entered his own house a crestfallen,
humiliated man, without a hope of overcoming the wretchedness which
affected him.
He wandered into the drawing-room where was his daughter; but he could
not speak to her now, so he left it, and went into the book-room.
He was not quick enough to escape Eleanor's glance, or to prevent her
from seeing that he was disturbed; and in a little while she followed
him. She found him seated in his accustomed chair with no book open
before him, no pen ready in his hand, no ill-shapen notes of blotted
music lying before him as was usual, none of those hospital accounts
with which he was so precise and yet so unmethodical: he was doing
nothing, thinking of nothing, looking at nothing; he was merely
suffering.
"Leave me, Eleanor, my dear," he said; "leave me, my darling, for a
few minutes, for I am busy."
Eleanor saw well how it was, but she did leave him, and glided
silently back to her drawing-room. When he had sat a while, thus
alone and unoccupied, he got up to walk again;--he could make more
of his thoughts walking than sitting, and was creeping out into his
garden, when he met Bunce on the threshold.
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