e known through the whole diocese. It certainly was so before he had
been gone a week, and it certainly was the case also that the diocese
generally did not approve of the Doctor's conduct. The woman ought not to
have been left there. So said the diocese. It was of course the case,
that though the diocese knew much, it did not know all. It is impossible
to keep such a story concealed, but it is quite as impossible to make
known all its details. In the eyes of the diocese the woman was of course
the chief sinner, and the chief sinner was allowed to remain at the
school! When this assertion was made to him the Doctor became very angry,
saying that Mrs. Peacocke did not remain at the school; that, according to
the arrangement as at present made, Mrs. Peacocke had nothing to do with
the school; that the house was his own, and that he might lend it to whom
he pleased. Was he to turn the woman out houseless, when her husband had
gone, on such an errand, on his advice? Of course the house was his own,
but as clergyman of the parish he had not a right to do what he liked with
it. He had no right to encourage evil. And the man was not the woman's
husband. That was just the point made by the diocese. And she was at the
school,--living under the same roof with the boys! The diocese was
clearly of opinion that all the boys would be taken away.

The diocese spoke by the voice of its bishop, as a diocese should do.
Shortly after Mr. Peacocke's departure, the Doctor had an interview with
his lordship, and told the whole story. The doing this went much against
the grain with him, but he hardly dared not to do it. He felt that he was
bound to do it on the part of Mrs. Peacocke if not on his own. And then
the man, who had now gone, though he had never been absolutely a curate,
had preached frequently in the diocese. He felt that it would not be wise
to abstain from telling the bishop.

The bishop was a goodly man, comely in his person, and possessed of
manners which had made him popular in the world. He was one of those who
had done the best he could with his talent, not wrapping it up in a
napkin, but getting from it the best interest which the world's market
could afford. But not on that account was he other than a good man. To
do the best he could for himself and his family,--and also to do his
duty,--was the line of conduct which he pursued. There are some who
reverse this order, but he was not one of them. He h