"I thought the prime minister could make any one a bishop that he chooses,--any clergyman, that is."

"But there is no see vacant," said Mrs. Grantly.

"Then there isn't any chance," said Griselda, looking very glum.

"They are going to have an Act of Parliament for making two more bishops. That's what they are talking about at least. And if they do--"

"Papa will be Bishop of Westminster--won't he? And we shall live in London?"

"But you must not talk about it, my dear."

"No, I won't. But, mamma, a Bishop of Westminster will be higher than a Bishop of Barchester; won't he? I shall so like to be able to snub those Miss Proudies." It will therefore be seen that there were matters on which even Griselda Grantly could be animated. Like the rest of her family she was devoted to the Church.

Late on that afternoon the archdeacon returned home to dine in Mount Street, having spent the whole of the day between the Treasury chambers, a meeting of Convocation, and his club. And when he did get home it was soon manifest to his wife that he was not laden with good news.

"It is almost incredible," he said, standing with his back to the drawing-room fire.

"What is incredible?" said his wife, sharing her husband's anxiety to the full.

"If I had not learned it as fact, I would not have believed it, even of Lord Brock," said the archdeacon.

"Learned what?" said the anxious wife.

"After all, they are going to oppose the bill."

"Impossible!" said Mrs. Grantly.

"But they are."

"The bill for the two new bishops, archdeacon? oppose their own bill!"

"Yes--oppose their own bill. It is almost incredible; but so it is.

Some changes have been forced upon us; little things which they had forgotten--quite minor matters; and they now say that they will be obliged to divide against us on these twopenny-halfpenny, hair-splitting points. It is Lord Brock's own doing too, after all that he said about abstaining from factious opposition to the government."

"I believe there is nothing too bad or too false for that man," said Mrs. Grantly.

"After all they said, too, when they were in power themselves, as to the present government opposing the cause of religion! They declare now that Lord De Terrier cannot be very anxious about it, as he had so many good reasons against it a few weeks ago. Is it not dreadful that there should be such double-dealing in men in such positions?"

"It is sickening," said Mrs. Grantly.

And then there was a pause between them as each thought of the injury that was done to them.

"But, archdeacon--"

"Well?"

"Could you not give up those small points and shame them into compliance?"

"Nothing would shame them."

"But would it not be well to try?"

The game was so good a one, and the stake so important, that Mrs.

Grantly felt that it would be worth playing for to the last.

"It is no good."

"But I certainly would suggest it to Lord De Terrier. I am sure the country would go along with him; at any rate the Church would."

"It is impossible," said the archdeacon. "To tell the truth, it did occur to me. But some of them down there seemed to think that it would not do."

Mrs. Grantly sat awhile on the sofa, still meditating in her mind whether there might not yet be some escape from so terrible a downfall.

"But, archdeacon--"

"I'll go upstairs and dress," said he, in despondency.

"But, archdeacon, surely the present ministry may have a majority on such a subject as that; I thought they were sure of a majority now."

"No; not sure."

"But at any rate the chances are in their favour? I do hope they'll do their duty, and exert themselves to keep their members together."

And then the archdeacon told out the whole of the truth.

"Lord De Terrier says that under the present circ.u.mstances he will not bring the matter forward this session at all. So we had better go back to Plumstead."

Mrs. Grantly then felt that there was nothing further to be said, and it will be proper that the historian should drop a veil over their sufferings.

CHAPTER XXIV.

MAGNA EST VERITAS.

It was made known to the reader that in the early part of the winter Mr. Sowerby had a scheme for retrieving his lost fortunes, and setting himself right in the world, by marrying that rich heiress, Miss Dunstable. I fear my friend Sowerby does not, at present, stand high in the estimation of those who have come on with me thus far in this narrative. He has been described as a spendthrift and gambler, and as one scarcely honest in his extravagance and gambling. But nevertheless there are worse men than Mr. Sowerby, and I am not prepared to say that, should he be successful with Miss Dunstable, that lady would choose by any means the worst of the suitors who are continually throwing themselves at her feet. Reckless as this man always appeared to be, reckless as he absolutely was, there was still within his heart a desire for better things, and in his mind an understanding that he had hitherto missed the career of an honest English gentleman. He was proud of his position as member for his county, though hitherto he had done so little to grace it; he was proud of his domain at Chaldicotes, though the possession of it had so nearly pa.s.sed out of his own hands; he was proud of the old blood that flowed in his veins; and he was proud also of that easy, comfortable, gay manner, which went so far in the world's judgment to atone for his extravagance and evil practices. If only he could get another chance, as he now said to himself, things should go very differently with him. He would utterly forswear the whole company of Tozers. He would cease to deal in bills, and to pay heaven only knows how many hundred per cent. for his moneys. He would no longer prey upon his friends, and would redeem his t.i.tle-deeds from the clutches of the Duke of Omnium. If only he could get another chance!

Miss Dunstable's fortune would do all this and ever so much more, and then, moreover, Miss Dunstable was a woman whom he really liked. She was not soft, feminine, or pretty, nor was she very young; but she was clever, self-possessed, and quite able to hold her own in any cla.s.s; and as to age, Mr. Sowerby was not very young himself. In making such a match he would have no cause of shame. He could speak of it before his friends without fear of their grimaces, and ask them to his house, with the full a.s.surance that the head of his table would not disgrace him. And then as the scheme grew clearer and clearer to him, he declared to himself that if he should be successful, he would use her well, and not rob her of her money--beyond what was absolutely necessary.

He had intended to have laid his fortunes at her feet at Chaldicotes; but the lady had been coy. Then the deed was to have been done at Gatherum Castle, but the lady ran away from Gatherum Castle just at the time on which he had fixed. And since that, one circ.u.mstance after another had postponed the affair in London, till now at last he was resolved that he would know his fate, let it be what it might.

If he could not contrive that things should speedily be arranged, it might come to pa.s.s that he would be altogether debarred from presenting himself to the lady as Mr. Sowerby of Chaldicotes. Tidings had reached him, through Mr. Fothergill, that the duke would be glad to have matters arranged; and Mr. Sowerby well knew the meaning of that message.

Mr. Sowerby was not fighting this campaign alone, without the aid of any ally. Indeed, no man ever had a more trusty ally in any campaign than he had in this. And it was this ally, the only faithful comrade that clung to him through good and ill during his whole life, who first put it into his head that Miss Dunstable was a woman and might be married.

"A hundred needy adventurers have attempted it, and failed already,"

Mr. Sowerby had said, when the plan was first proposed to him.