was a mystery, that
there was something about the Peacockes,--something referring especially
to Mrs. Peacocke,--which, if generally known, would be held to be
deleterious to their character. So much he could not help deducing from
what the man had already told him. No doubt he had undertaken, in his
generosity, that although the man should decline to tell his secret, no
alteration should be made as to the school arrangements; but he became
conscious that in so promising he had in some degree jeopardised the
well-being of the school. He began to whisper to himself that persons in
such a position as that filled by this Mr. Peacocke and his wife should
not be subject to peculiar remarks from ill-natured tongues. A weapon was
afforded by such a mystery to the Stantiloups of the world, which the
Stantiloups would be sure to use with all their virulence. To such an
establishment as his school, respectability was everything. Credit, he
said to himself, is a matter so subtle in its essence, that, as it may be
obtained almost without reason, so, without reason, may it be made to melt
away. Much as he liked Mr. Peacocke, much as he approved of him, much as
there was in the man of manliness and worth which was absolutely dear to
him,--still he was not willing to put the character of his school in peril
for the sake of Mr. Peacocke. Were he to do so, he would be neglecting a
duty much more sacred than any he could owe to Mr. Peacocke. It was thus
that, during these three days, he conversed with himself on the subject,
although he was able to maintain outwardly the same manner and the same
countenance as though all things were going well between them. When they
parted after the interview in the study, the Doctor, no doubt, had so
expressed himself as rather to dissuade his usher from telling his secret
than to encourage him to do so. He had been free in declaring that the
telling of the secret should make no difference in his assistant's
position at Bowick. But in all that, he had acted from his habitual
impulse. He had since told himself that the mystery ought to be
disclosed. It was not right that his boys should be left to the charge of
one who, however competent, dared not speak of his own antecedents. It
was thus he thought of the matter, after consideration. He must wait, of
course, till the week should be over before he made up his mind to
anything further.

"So Peacocke isn't going to take the curacy?"

This