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a while, thus alone and unoccupied, he got up to walk again--

he could make more of his thoughts walking than sitting, and



was creeping out into his garden, when he met Bunce on the

threshold.



'Well, Bunce,' said he, in a tone that for him was sharp,

'what is it? do you want me?'



'I was only coming to ask after your reverence,' said the

old bedesman, touching his hat; 'and to inquire about the



news from London,' he added after a pause.

The warden winced, and put his hand to his forehead and



felt bewildered.

'Attorney Finney has been there this morning,' continued



Bunce, 'and by his looks I guess he is not so well pleased as he

once was, and it has got abroad somehow that the archdeacon



has had down great news from London, and Handy and

Moody are both as black as devils. And I hope,' said the man,



trying to assume a cheery tone, 'that things are looking up,

and that there'll be an end soon to all this stuff which bothers



your reverence so sorely.'

'Well, I wish there may be, Bunce.'



'But about the news, your reverence?' said the old man,

almost whispering.



Mr Harding walked on, and shook his head impatiently.

Poor Bunce little knew how he was tormenting his patron.



'If there was anything to cheer you, I should be so glad to

know it,' said he, with a tone of affection which the warden



in all his misery could not resist.

He stopped, and took both the old man's hands in his.



'My friend,' said he, 'my dear old friend, there is nothing;

there is no news to cheer me--God's will be done': and two



small hot tears broke away from his eyes and stole down his

furrowed cheeks.



'Then God's will be done,' said the other solemnly; 'but

they told me that there was good news from London, and I



came to wish your reverence joy; but God's will be done,'

and so the warden again walked on, and the bedesman, looking



wistfully after him and receiving no encouragement to follow,

returned sadly to his own abode.



For a couple of hours the warden remained thus in the

garden, now walking, now standingmotionless on the turf,



and then, as his legs got weary, sitting unconsciously on the

garden seats, and then walking again. And Eleanor, hidden



behind the muslin curtains of the window, watched him

through the trees as he now came in sight, and then again was



concealed by the turnings of the walk; and thus the time

passed away till five, when the warden crept back to the house



and prepared for dinner.

It was but a sorry meal. The demure parlour-maid, as she



handed the dishes and changed the plates, saw that all was not

right, and was more demure than ever: neither father nor



daughter could eat, and the hateful food was soon cleared

away, and the bottle of port placed upon the table.



'Would you like Bunce to come in, papa?'said Eleanor, thinking

that the company of the old man might lighten his sorrow.



'No, my dear, thank you, not today; but are not you going out,

Eleanor, this lovely afternoon? don't stay in for me, my dear.'



'I thought you seemed so sad, papa.'

'Sad,' said he, irritated; 'well, people must all have their



share of sadness here; I am not more exempt than another:

but kiss me, dearest, and go now; I will, if possible, be more



sociable when you return.'

And Eleanor was again banished from her father's sorrow.



Ah! her desire now was not to find him happy, but to be

allowed to share his sorrows; not to force him to be sociable,



but to persuade him to be trustful.

She put on her bonnet as desired, and went up to Mary



Bold; this was now her daily haunt, for John Bold was up in

London among lawyers and church reformers, diving deep



into other questions than that of the wardenship of Barchester;

supplying information to one member of Parliament, and



dining with another; subscribing to funds for the abolition of

clerical incomes, and seconding at that great national meeting



at the Crown and Anchor a resolution to the effect, that no




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