and a short gentleman,
with a slow, quiet step, entered the room; but was not yet to be
distinguished through the dusk by the eyes of Mr. Robarts. "Oh!
bishop, is that you?" said Mrs. Smith. "Here is one of the luminaries
of your diocese." And then the bishop, feeling through the dark, made
his way up to the vicar and shook him cordially by the hand. "He
was delighted to meet Mr. Robarts at Chaldicotes," he said--"quite
delighted. Was he not going to preach on behalf of the Papuan Mission
next Sunday? Ah! so he, the bishop, had heard. It was a good work,
an excellent work." And then Dr. Proudie expressed himself as much
grieved that he could not remain at Chaldicotes, and hear the sermon.
It was plain that his bishop thought no ill of him on account of his
intimacy with Mr. Sowerby. But then he felt in his own heart that he
did not much regard his bishop's opinion.

"Ah, Robarts, I'm delighted to see you," said Mr. Sowerby, when they
met on the drawing-room rug before dinner. "You know Harold Smith?
Yes, of course you do. Well, who else is there? Oh! Supplehouse. Mr.
Supplehouse, allow me to introduce to you my friend Mr. Robarts. It
is he who will extract the five-pound note out of your pocket next
Sunday for these poor Papuans whom we are going to Christianize.
That is, if Harold Smith does not finish the work out of hand at his
Saturday lecture. And, Robarts, you have seen the bishop, of course:"
this he said in a whisper. "A fine thing to be a bishop, isn't it? I
wish I had half your chance. But, my dear fellow, I've made such a
mistake; I haven't got a bachelor parson for Miss Proudie. You must
help me out, and take her in to dinner." And then the great gong
sounded, and off they went in pairs.

At dinner Mark found himself seated between Miss Proudie and the lady
whom he had heard named as Miss Dunstable. Of the former he was not
very fond, and, in spite of his host's petition, was not inclined to
play bachelor parson for her benefit. With the other lady he would
willingly have chatted during the dinner, only that everybody else at
table seemed to be intent on doing the same thing. She was neither
young, nor beautiful, nor peculiarly ladylike; yet she seemed
to enjoy a popularity which must have excited the envy of Mr.
Supplehouse, and which certainly was not altogether to the taste of
Mrs. Proudie--who, however, feted her as much as did the others.
So that our clergyman found himself unable to obtain more than