to him. The only interview
which had ever taken place between them as lovers was that on which she
had run by him into the house, leaving him, as the Earl had said, planted
on the terrace. She had never been able to whisper one single soft word
into his ear, to give him even one touch of her fingers in token of her
affection. She did not in the least know when she might be allowed to see
him,--whether it had not been settled among the elders that they were not
to see each other as real lovers till he should have taken his
degree,--which would be almost in a future world, so distant seemed the
time. It had been already settled that she was to go to Carstairs in the
middle of November and stay till the middle of December; but it was
altogether settled that her lover was not to be at Carstairs during the
time. He was to be at Oxford then, and would be thinking only of his
Greek and Latin,--or perhaps amusing himself, in utter forgetfulness that
he had a heart belonging to him at Bowick Parsonage. In this way Mary,
though no doubt she thought the most of it all, had less opportunity of
talking of it than either her father or her mother.

In the mean time Mr. Peacocke was coming home. The Doctor, as soon as he
heard that the day was fixed, or nearly fixed, being then, as has been
explained, in full good humour with all the world except Mrs. Stantiloup
and the Bishop, bethought himself as to what steps might best be taken in
the very delicate matter in which he was called upon to give advice. He
had declared at first that they should be married at his own parish
church; but he felt that there would be difficulties in this. "She must
go up to London and meet him there," he said to Mrs. Wortle. "And he must
not show himself here till he brings her down as his actual wife." Then
there was very much to be done in arranging all this. And something to be
done also in making those who had been his friends, and perhaps more in
making those who had been his enemies, understand exactly how the matter
stood. Had no injury been inflicted upon him, as though he had done evil
to the world in general in befriending Mr. Peacocke, he would have been
quite willing to pass the matter over in silence among his friends; but as
it was he could not afford to hide his own light under a bushel. He was
being punished almost to the extent of ruin by the cruel injustice which
had been done him by the evil tongue of Mrs. Stantiloup, and, as h