The Warden

den's T

f wrote a note to Mr Bold, the same afternoon, inviting him to meet a few friends and hear some music on an evening named in the next week. Had not this little party been promised to Eleanor, in his present state of mind he would probably have avoided such gaiety; but t

the energy of her brother; but she was guided by a high principle of right and wrong; her temper was sweet, and her faults were fewer in number than her virtues. Those who casually met Mary Bold thought little of her; but those who knew her well loved her well, and the longer they

nd two notes. Well, if Mr Harding becomes

e generous than for the oppressor. John Bold felt that he could not go to the warden's party: he never loved Eleanor better than he did now; he had never so strongly felt how anxious he was to make her his wife as now

with the note in his hand, his si

must write separate answers, and

eadily assented. "I cannot," he continued, looking se

of the new-found abuse which her brother was about to reform

t it would be best to tell her at once what it was

arding's house any more as

? Ah, you've quarr

he; "I've no quarre

s, loving face, for she knew well how much of his heart was

of Hiram's Hospital, and of course that brings me into contact with Mr H

e she committed herself to reply, and then mere

ll, and left his property in charity for certain poor old men, and the proceeds, instead of going

e away from Mr Hardi

perty. I mean to see, if I can, that justice be done to the poor of the city of Barchester generally

e you to do

would belong to nobody. If we are to act on that principle, the weak are never to be protected, injustice is never to

nown Mr Harding so long? Surely, John, as a friend,

hing itself be right, private motives should never be allowed to interfere. Because I esteem Mr Harding, is that a reason that I should neglect a

the sister, looking timidl

y-but there is no necessity now to talk about Eleanor Harding; but this I will say, that if she has the kind of spirit for which I giv

r that the notes must be answered, and she got up, and placed her

ham V

ay mo

ar El

ed, and looked

why don't y

, "dear John, pray t

ter of wha

d men. Nothing can call upon you,-no duty can require you to set yourself against your ol

ss Harding's heart

he rug. "Pray give it up. You are going to make yourself, and her, and her father miserable: you are going to make us

y dear girl," said he, smoo

there was a plain, a positive duty before you, I would be the last to bid you neglect it for any woman's love; but this-; oh, think again, before you do anything to make it necessary that you and Mr Harding should be at variance." He did not answer, as she knelt there,

a hand to hear her tell me what you have said, speaking on her behalf; but I cannot for her sake go back from the task which I have commenced. I hope she may hereafter acknowledg

tend the party, but that her brother was unavoidably prevented from doing so. I fear t

ntlemen, rather stiff about the neck, clustered near the door, not as yet sufficiently in courage to attack the muslin frocks, who awaited the battle, drawn up in a semicircular array. The warden endeavoured to induce a charge, but failed signally, not having the tact of a general; his daughter did what

he dilated to brother parsons of the danger of the church, of the fearful rumo

e made in a quarter notable for round stools and music stands. Wax candles were arranged in

fluttered and crumpled before Eleanor and another nymph were duly seated at the piano; how closely did that tall Apollo pack himself against the wall, with his flute, long as himself, extend

those pegs so twisted and re-twisted;-listen, listen! Now alone that saddest of instruments tells its touching tale. Silent, and in awe, stand fiddle, flute, and piano, to hear the sorrows of their wailing brother. 'Tis but for a moment: before the melancholy of those low notes has been fully realised, again

e no cities, even though the enemy should be never so open to assault. At length a more deadly artillery is brought to bear; slowly, but with effect, the advance is made; the muslin ranks are broken, and fall into confusion; the formidable array of chairs gives way; the battle is no longer between opposing regiments, but

rch! Ah, why so slow, thou meagre doctor? See how the archdeacon, speechless in his agony, deposits on the board his cards, and looks to heaven or to the ceiling for support. Hark, how he sighs, as with thumbs in his waistcoat pocket he seems to signify that the end of such torment is not yet even nigh at hand! Vain is the hope, if hope there be, to disturb that meagre doctor. With care precise he places every card, weighs well the value of each mighty ace, each guarded king, and comfort-giving queen; speculates on

a trump is led, then another trump; then a king,-and then an ace,-and then a long ten, which bri

ub?" says the archd

e pursy rector, who sits there red-faced, silent, i

hem some four cards as their allotted portion, shoves the remainder across the table to the red-faced rector; calls out "two by cards and two by honours, a

had sat the whole evening through in the same chair without occupation, not speaking, and unspoken to. And Matilda Johnson, when she allowed young Dickson of the bank to fasten her cloak round her neck, thought that two hundred pounds a year and a little cottage would really do for happiness; besides, he was sure

, and Mr Harding was left

es or twenty suffice! In the present case so little of this sort have I overheard, that I live in hopes of finishing my work within 300 pages, and of completing that pleasant task-a novel in one volume; but something had passed be

," said he, "a

se so; but papa-Mr Bold was not h

rote to him myself

ow why he did

no use guessing at such things, my dear.

oking into his face; "what is it he is going to do? What is it all about?

ear, what sor

nd of loss, and of-Oh, papa, why hav

ffection; day after day he thought more of the matter, and, with the tender care of a loving father, tried to arrange in his own mind how matters might be so managed that his daughter's heart should not be made the sacrifice to the dispute which

e gazed up into his face, and then kissi

indest, softest, sweetest moods, and yet all his moods were

k that a man of whom she could not but own to herself that she loved him, of whose regard she had been so proud, that such a man should turn against her father to ruin him. She had felt her vanity hurt, that his affection for her had

the question altogether

ertainly had not prepared herself for an avowal of affection, intending, as she had done, to abuse John Bold herself, and to hear her father do so also. "

, and that which he presumed he was about to take; and then by degrees, without further question, he presumed on the fact of Eleanor's love, and spoke of that love as a feeling which he could in no way disapprove: he apologised for Bold, excused what he was doing; nay, praised

Mary Bold called at the hospital, but there were various persons in the drawing-room at the time, and she therefore said nothing about her brother. On the day following, John Bold met Miss H

emeditated speech, "my sister tells me that you had a delightfu

said Eleanor, with

s moment-" And Bold hesitated, muttered, stopped, co

not help him

r explained to yo

ee you, if you like to come to the house now as formerly; nothing has occurred

e always was so; but you, Miss Harding, yourself

m oppose him, I shall have charity enough to believe that they are wrong, through error of judgment; but should I see him attacked by those who ought to know him, and to love