eanor
has ever thought about it. It is very probable, though, that he has;
and that he will try and make her do so; and that he will succeed
too, if we don't take care what we are about."

This was quite a new phase of the affair to poor Mr. Harding. To have
thrust upon him as his son-in-law, as the husband of his favourite
child, the only man in the world whom he really positively disliked,
would be a misfortune which he felt he would not know how to endure
patiently. But then, could there be any ground for so dreadful a
surmise? In all worldly matters he was apt to look upon the opinion
of his eldest daughter as one generally sound and trustworthy. In her
appreciation of character, of motives, and the probable conduct both of
men and women, she was usually not far wrong. She had early foreseen
the marriage of Eleanor and John Bold; she had at a glance deciphered
the character of the new bishop and his chaplain; could it possibly be
that her present surmise should ever come forth as true?

"But you don't think that she likes him?" said Mr. Harding again.

"Well, Papa, I can't say that I think she dislikes him as she ought
to do. Why is he visiting there as a confidential friend, when he
never ought to have been admitted inside the house? Why is it that
she speaks to him about your welfare and your position, as she clearly
has done? At the bishop's party the other night I saw her talking to
him for half an hour at the stretch."

"I thought Mr. Slope seemed to talk to nobody there but that daughter
of Stanhope's," said Mr. Harding, wishing to defend his child.

"Oh, Mr. Slope is a cleverer man than you think of, Papa, and keeps
more than one iron in the fire."

To give Eleanor her due, any suspicion as to the slightest
inclination on her part towards Mr. Slope was a wrong to her. She
had no more idea of marrying Mr. Slope than she had of marrying
the bishop, and the idea that Mr. Slope would present himself as a
suitor had never occurred to her. Indeed, to give her her due again,
she had never thought about suitors since her husband's death. But
nevertheless it was true that she had overcome all that repugnance to
the man which was so strongly felt for him by the rest of the Grantly
faction. She had forgiven him his sermon. She had forgiven him
his Low Church tendencies, his Sabbath-schools, and puritanical
observances. She had forgiven his pharisaical arrogance, and even his
greasy face and oily, vulgar manners.