inated by gazing on a
snake.

"I hope you agree with me," said the archdeacon at last, breaking the
dread silence; "my lord, I hope you agree with me."

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 si