never have the Gospel preached to them by
a worse man."

"I will not judge him; but I do think that it has been a misfortune. You,
of course, were in ignorance."

"Had I known all about it, I should have been very much inclined to do the
same."

This was, in fact, not true, and was said simply in a spirit of
contradiction. The Bishop shook his head and smiled. "My school is a
matter of more importance," said the Doctor.

"Hardly, hardly, Dr. Wortle."

"Of more importance in this way, that my school may probably be injured,
whereas neither the morals nor the faith of the parishioners will have
been hurt."

"But he has gone."

"He has gone;--but she remains."

"What!" exclaimed the Bishop.

"He has gone, but she remains." He repeated the words very distinctly,
with a frown on his brow, as though to show that on that branch of the
subject he intended to put up with no opposition,--hardly even with an
adverse opinion.

"She had a certain charge, as I understand,--as to the school."

"She had, my lord; and very well she did her work. I shall have a great
loss in her,--for the present."

"But you said she remained."

"I have lent her the use of the house till her husband shall come back."

"Mr. Peacocke, you mean," said the Bishop, who was unable not to put in a
contradiction against the untruth of the word which had been used.

"I shall always regard them as married."

"But they are not."

"I have lent her the house, at any rate, during his absence. I could not
turn her into the street."

"Would not a lodging here in the city have suited her better?"

"I thought not. People here would have refused to take her,--because of
her story. The wife of some religious grocer, who sands his sugar
regularly, would have thought her house contaminated by such an inmate."

"So it would have been, Doctor, to some extent." At hearing this the
Doctor made very evident signs of discontent. "You cannot alter the ways
of the world suddenly, though by example and precept you may help to
improve them slowly. In our present imperfect condition of moral culture,
it is perhaps well that the company of the guilty should be shunned."

"Guilty!"

"I am afraid that I must say so. The knowledge that such a feeling exists
no doubt deters others from guilt. The fact that wrong-doing in women is
scorned helps to maintain the innocence of women. Is it not so?"

"I must hesitate before I trouble your lordship by arg