Mr Arabin was waiting at the deanery parlour when Mr Harding and Dr Grantly were driven up from the station.
There was some excitement in the bosoms of them all, as they met and shook hands; but far too much to enable either of them to begin his story and tell it in a proper equable style of narrative. Mr Harding was some minutes quite dumbfounded, and Mr Arabin could only talk in short, spasmodic sentences about his love and good fortune. He slipped in, as best he could, some sort of congratulation about the deanship, and then went on with his hopes and fears--hopes that he might be received as a son, and fears that he hardly deserved such good fortune. Then he went back to the dean; it was the most thoroughly satisfactory appointment, he said, of which he had ever heard.
'But! But! But--' said Mr Harding; and then failing to get any further, he looked imploringly at the archdeacon.
'The truth is, Arabin,' said the doctor, 'that, after all you are not destined to be the son-in-law to a dean. Nor am I either: more's the pity.'
Mr Arabin looked to him for explanation. 'Is not Mr Harding to be the new dean?'
'It appears not,' said the archdeacon. Mr Arabin's face fell a little, and he looked from one to the other. It was plainly to be seen from them both that there was no cause for unhappiness in the matter, at least not of an unhappiness to them; but there was as yet no clarification of the mystery.
'Think how old I am,' said Mr Harding imploringly.
'Fiddlestick!' said the archdeacon.
'That's all very well, but it won't make a young man of me,' said Mr Harding.
'And who is to be the dean?' asked Mr Arabin.
'Yes, that is the question,' said the archdeacon. 'Come, Mr Precentor, since you obstinately refuse to be anything else, let us know who is to be the man. He has got the nomination in his pocket.'
With eyes brim full of tears, Mr Harding pulled out the letter and handed it to his future son-in-law. He tried to make a little speech, but failed altogether. Having given up the document, he turned round to the wall, feigning to blow his nose, and then sat himself down on the old dean's dingy horse-hair sofa. And here we find it necessary to bring our account of the interview to an end.
Nor can we pretend to describe the rapture with which Mr Harding was received by his daughter. She wept with grief and with joy;with grief that her father should, in his old age, still be without that rank and worldly position, which, according to her ideas, he had so well earned; and with joy that he, her darling father, should have bestowed on that other dear one the good things of which he himself would not open his hand to take possession. And her, Mr Harding again showed his weakness. In the melee of the exposal of their loves and reciprocal affection, he found himself unable to resist the entreaties of all parties that his lodgings in the High Street should be given up. Eleanor would not live in the deanery, she said, unless her father lived there also. Mr Arabin would not be dean, unless Mr Harding would be co-dean with him. The archdeacon declared that his father-in-law should not have his own way in everything, and Mrs Grantly carried him off to Plumstead, that he might remain there till Mr and Mrs Arabin were in a state to receive him at their own mansion.
Pressed by such arguments as these, what could a weak man do but yield?
But there was yet another task which it behoved Mr Harding to do before he could allow himself to be at rest. Little has been said in these pages of the state of those remaining old men who had lived under his sway at the hospital. But not on this account must it be presumed that he had forgotten them, or that in their state of anarchy and in their want of government he had omitted to visit them. He visited them constantly, and had latterly given them to understand that they would soon be required to subscribe their adherence to a new master. There were now but five of them, one of them not having been but quite lately carried to his rest--but five of the full number, which had hitherto been twelve, and which was now to be raised to twenty-four, including women. Of these old Bunce, who for many years, had been the favourite of the late warden, was one; and Abel Handy, who had been the humble means from driving that warden from his home, was another.
Mr Harding now resolved that he himself would introduce the new warden to the hospital. He felt that many circumstances might conspire to make the men receive Mr Quiverful with aversion and disrespect; he felt also that Mr Quiverful might himself feel some qualms of conscience if he entered the hospital with an idea that he did so in hostility to his predecessor. Mr Harding therefore determined to walk in, arm in arm, with Mr Quiverful, and to ask from these men their respectful obedience to their new master.
On returning to Barchester, he found that Mr Quiverful had not yet slept in the hospital house, or entered on his new duties. He accordingly made known to that gentleman his wishes, and his proposition was not rejected.
