t I can hardly ask
her for an opinion."

The Doctor by this time had no doubt become curious. There was a
something mysterious with which he would like to become acquainted. He
was by no means a philosopher, superior to the ordinary curiosity of
mankind. But he was manly, and even at this moment remembered his former
assurances. "Of course," said he, "I cannot in the least guess what all
this is about. For myself I hate secrets. I haven't a secret in the
world. I know nothing of myself which you mightn't know too for all that
I cared. But that is my good fortune rather than my merit. It might well
have been with me as it is with you; but, as a rule, I think that where
there is a secret it had better be kept. No one, at any rate, should
allow it to be wormed out of him by the impertinent assiduity of others.
If there be anything affecting your wife which you do not wish all the
world on this side of the water to know, do not tell it to any one on this
side of the water."

"There is something affecting my wife that I do not wish all the world to
know."

"Then tell it to no one," said Dr. Wortle, authoritatively.

"I will tell you what I will do," said Mr. Peacocke; "I will take a week
to think of it, and then I will let you know whether I will tell it or
whether I will not; and if I tell it I will let you know also how far I
shall expect you to keep my secret, and how far to reveal it. I think the
Bishop will be entitled to know nothing about me unless I ask to be
recognised as one of the clergy of his diocese."

"Certainly not; certainly not," said the Doctor. And then the interview
was at an end.

Mr. Peacocke, when he went away from the Rectory, did not at once return
to his own house, but went off for a walk alone. It was now nearly
midsummer, and there was broad daylight till ten o'clock. It was after
nine when he left the Doctor's, but still there was time for a walk which
he knew well through the fields, which would take him round by Bowick
Wood, and home by a path across the squire's park and by the church. An
hour would do it, and he wanted an hour to collect his thoughts before he
should see his wife, and discuss with her, as he would be bound to do, all
that had passed between him and the Doctor. He had said that he could not
ask her advice. In this there had been much of truth. But he knew also
that he would do nothing as to which he had not received at any rate her
assent. She, for h