at Mr. Puddicombe would himself preach in the
afternoon, and would afterwards call in at the rectory.

For an hour or two before his dinner, the Doctor went out on horseback,
and roamed about among the lanes, endeavouring to make up his mind. He
was hitherto altogether at a loss as to what he should do in this present
uncomfortable emergency. He could not bring his conscience and his
inclination to come square together. And even when he counselled himself
to yield to his conscience, his very conscience,--a second conscience, as
it were,--revolted against the first. His first conscience told him that
he owed a primary duty to his parish, a second duty to his school, and a
third to his wife and daughter. In the performance of all these duties he
would be bound to rid himself of Mr. Peacocke. But then there came that
other conscience, telling him that the man had been more "sinned against
than sinning,"--that common humanity required him to stand by a man who
had suffered so much, and had suffered so unworthily. Then this second
conscience went on to remind him that the man was pre-eminently fit for
the duties which he had undertaken,--that the man was a God-fearing,
moral, and especially intellectual assistant in his school,--that were he
to lose him he could not hope to find any one that would be his equal, or
at all approaching to him in capacity. This second conscience went
further, and assured him that the man's excellence as a schoolmaster was
even increased by the peculiarity of his position. Do we not all know
that if a man be under a cloud the very cloud will make him more attentive
to his duties than another? If a man, for the wages which he receives,
can give to his employer high character as well as work, he will think
that he may lighten his work because of his character. And as to this
man, who was the very phoenix of school assistants, there would really be
nothing amiss with his character if only this piteous incident as to his
wife were unknown. In this way his second conscience almost got the
better of the first.

But then it would be known. It would be impossible that it should not be
known. He had already made up his mind to tell Mr. Puddicombe, absolutely
not daring to decide in such an emergency without consulting some friend.
Mr. Puddicombe would hold his peace if he were to promise to do so.
Certainly he might be trusted to do that. But others would know it; the
Bishop would know it;