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"I have never met so much suffering, joined to such perfect beauty and such a clever mind," he told Eleanor as they drove home in the archdeacon's carriage.

There had also been a dinner party at the Stanhopes', to which Mrs Bold and Mr Arabin were invited. He, like every other man before him, could not resist the charming signora, and spent the whole evening beside her sofa.

The next two weeks passed very pleasantly at Plumstead. Eleanor was a delightful house-guest, and Dr and Mrs Grantly seemed to have forgotten her wicked feelings for Mr Slope. Mr Harding walked in the garden and played the piano, and little Johnny had no more trouble with his teeth. And although Mr Arabin was busy with his new duties at St Ewold's, he made sure he spent every evening at Plumstead.

Eleanor by no means liked to hear this praise. It was, however, extremely unjust of her to be angry with Mr Arabin, as she had herself spent a very pleasant evening with Bertie Stanhope, who had not left her side for one moment. She was not in love with Mr Arabin, although she had spent three weeks in the same house as him and they had enjoyed lengthy conversations together. But a woman does not need to be in love to be irritated when a friend or companion appears to find another woman more attractive. "I thought he had more wisdom than that," she told herself, as she sat watching her sleeping child, after they had arrived home. "After all, I believe Mr Stanhope is the pleasanter man of the two."

So things went on at Plumstead. However, the matter of the wardenship was still not decided. Following his promise to Mr Harding, the archdeacon had tried to speak privately to the bishop about it, but had not been able to see him.

Fortunately, Eleanor's annoyance with Mr Arabin did not last long, and soon they were good friends again. They could have been more, if he had respected her intelligence enough to discuss serious matters with her, as he had done in their first real conversation together. With her he was always gently playful. If he had allowed her to share his deepest thoughts and concerns, she might have learnt to love him.

Mr Arabin was not in love, either. Nor was Bertie Stanhope, although he was ready to say so. Only the widow's cap which Eleanor still wore prevented him, in case it was thought too soon for a widow to be receiving another proposal of marriage.

Luckily, Mr Harding had another friend fighting his battle for him, a friend even more powerful than the archdeacon, and this was Mr Slope. The chaplain thought he had more and more evidence every day to make him believe the widow would accept his marriage proposal. He felt that giving Mr Harding the wardenship would make him, Slope, more likely to be welcomed as a son-in-law. And he had an even stronger reason for his actions. He wanted a wife, and he wanted money, but he wanted power more than either. He had realized he must fight Mrs Proudie, otherwise he would never be able to rise to a higher position. The wardenship was an excellent reason for war.

The bishop, following his wife's orders, had declared Mr Quiverful should be the new warden. So Mr Slope decided to ride over to Puddingdale and interview the vicar at once.

Mr Quiverful was, on the whole, a good, honest, hardworking man, but the difficulties of his daily life had had a bad effect on his spirit and his sense of honour. He was attempting to bring up fourteen children as ladies and gentlemen, on an income which was hardly enough to provide them with food and clothes. He was anxious for bread and meat and anxious to pay his bills, but not as anxious as a richer man might be, to be well respected by all around him. He could not afford such a luxury. Recently he had felt that his brother clergymen, men he had known for twenty years, looked coldly on him since he had shown himself willing to sit at the feet of Mr Slope. He had seen their looks grow colder still, when it was said he was to become the new warden. This was painful to him, but when he thought of his poor wife and children, and the happy, comfortable life they would all have in the warden's house in Barchester, he felt he had no choice.

So when she saw the great Mr Slope arrive, she hurried into the kitchen with an anxious, beating heart, and left the two men alone in the sitting room.

Mrs Quiverful cared nothing for the frowns of the clergy. In her heart she had no other ambition than that of seeing her husband and children properly fed and dressed -- life for her had no other purpose. So she had no patience with her husband when he had spoken of not wishing to accept the post until he was sure Mr Harding had refused it. Fortunately, they had now received a full promise that the post was theirs, not only from Mr Slope, but also from Mrs Proudie. But what if all had been lost? Mrs Quiverful was a happy woman at present, but it took her breath away when she thought of the danger they had been in.

It was easy for a man as experienced as Mr Slope to achieve his purpose. By choosing his words carefully, he was able to withdraw the promise he had made to Quiverful, who, although horrified at the thought of losing the post, could do nothing but express his disappointment. Soon Mr Slope was riding back to Barchester, confident that he could now persuade the bishop to give the post to Mr Harding.

As soon as the front door closed behind the visitor, Mrs Quiverful rushed eagerly back to her husband.

"Well, my dear, we are not to have it," he said, turning a pale, miserable face towards her.

She sat as silent as death while he told his story. "And so you have resigned your post?" said she, at last.

"It's all we can do, my dear. I feel the disappointment more for your sake than my own."

"What!" she cried, with all the anger and deep despair of a mother who has lost a child. "What! Who says so?"

"You are too soft!" she sobbed. "But you must go at once and see the bishop! He knows nothing of this! Doesn't all the world know that Mrs Proudie is Bishop of Barchester, and Mr Slope is her slave? For some reason that woman sent him here today -- to break her promise to us!"

"I had no opportunity of accepting it," he replied sadly. "I must wait for another post, that's all."

Mrs Quiverful saw a small hot tear appear in her husband's eye and roll down his tired face. This was too much for her woman's heart. She ran to him and seized him in her arms.

"Wait! Shall we feed the children by waiting?"

But she could not persuade her husband to take any action at all, and soon she realized she must do something herself. "What if, after all, Mrs Proudie knows nothing of Mr Slope's visit?" she thought. She decided to call on the bishop's wife immediately.

Mrs Proudie was in an excellent mood, having just triumphed in another battle. The bishop had received an invitation to spend a couple of days with the archbishop, and greatly desired to accept it. However, not a word in the invitation mentioned Mrs Proudie, so if the bishop went at all, he must go alone. This presented an enormous difficulty. He could not order his bags to be packed, and then simply set off with a servant, casually telling the lady of his heart that he would be back on Saturday. There are men -- probably very wicked men -- who do such things, and there are women -- more like slaves -- who put up with them. But Dr and Mrs Proudie were not among them.

Normally, a visit to the bishop's palace would make her very nervous -- she was only a country vicar's wife -- but this time, strengthened by her family's needs, she felt confident. She arranged for a local farmer to drive her into Barchester and wait for her, to bring her back. Finally, she took her last half-crown coin from the box where she kept her savings; she would need it to bribe the servants to let her see the lady of the house.

She arrived at the palace door, and was told Mrs Proudie was not at home. "I must see her," said Mrs Quiverful firmly, and pressed her half-crown into the servant's hand. In two minutes she was in Mrs Proudie's sitting room, telling her sad story.

Now, therefore, she was all smiles as she greeted Mrs Quiverful. But her expression became cold and stern when she heard what Mr Slope had done. Asking Mrs Quiverful to wait for her, she marched out of the room. She was extremely angry with her husband, who, as she thought, had broken the promise he had so clearly given her about the hospital, and she was determined to win the battle against him all over again.

Without knocking at the door, she walked quickly into the bishop's study. She found him seated there, with Mr Slope opposite him. Between Dr Proudie's fingers was the very note which he had written to the archbishop in her presence -- and it was open! Yes, he had dared to break open the seal which she herself had approved. It was only too clear that the two guilty men were discussing the invitation, even after the matter had already been decided by her! Mr Slope rose from his chair and bowed slightly. He and Mrs Proudie looked each other full in the face, and knew each was face to face with an enemy.

So the bishop had spoken to his wife, but it was a short discussion. Those who are married will understand very well how the battle was lost and won; those who are single will never understand it until they learn the lesson which experience alone can give. Mrs Proudie made sure that before she left her lord, she had seen the answer to the invitation written and sealed.

"Mr Quiverful has not abandoned anything," said the lady scornfully. "His lordship has given his word."

"What is this, bishop, about Mr Quiverful?" said she.

"Perhaps I ought not to interfere," said Mr Slope, "but --"

Mr Slope did not allow the bishop to answer, but replied himself. "I saw Mr Quiverful at Puddingdale this morning, madam. He has abandoned his claim to the hospital, so I have strongly advised his lordship to appoint Mr Harding."

"Certainly you ought not," said the lady angrily.

The bishop remained silent. He was eager to win the battle over his old enemy, and yet his courage failed him.

"But," continued Mr Slope smoothly, "I considered it my duty to advise the bishop that he will not be popular in Barchester if he fails to appoint Mr Harding. And of course the bishop wishes to reward such an honourable man and such a good clergyman as Mr Harding. It is clear that, in the interview I had with Mr Harding, I misunderstood him --"

"And it is equally clear that you have misunderstood Mr Quiverful," said she, now at the height of her anger. "What business have you at all with these interviews? Who desired you to go to Puddingdale this morning? Will you answer me, sir?"

"Will you answer me, sir?" she repeated. "Who instructed you to call on Mr Quiverful this morning?"

"Mrs Proudie," said Mr Slope, "I am aware how much I owe to your kindness, but my duty in this matter is to his lordship, and I can accept no questioning except from him. He has approved of what I have done, and you will excuse me if I say I need no other person's approval."

"I think, Mrs Proudie," said Mr Slope in a low, calm voice, "that, under all the circumstances, it would be better for me not to answer such a question."

There was dead silence in the room. Mr Slope was standing with his hand on the back of a chair, looking very serious and very threatening. Mrs Proudie was standing at the end of the table, and as she spoke she struck her hand on it with an almost manly strength. The bishop was sitting in his armchair, turning his eyes now to his wife, and now to his chaplain, as each went on the attack in turn. How comfortable it would be if they could fight it out between them, so that one should destroy the other, and then he, the bishop, would know whom to obey!

"Did anyone send you, sir?"

"Mr Slope," she said, slowly and deliberately, "I will trouble you, if you please, to leave the room. I wish to speak to my lord alone."

What dreadful words these were to Mrs Proudie's ears! It was evident that the bishop was rebelling against her, and she must move speedily to regain control.

Mr Slope also felt that everything depended on the present interview. If the bishop lost this battle, he would remain a slave for ever. Now was the moment for victory or defeat!

"His lordship asked me here to discuss important cathedral business," he replied, hoping for support from Dr Proudie. "My leaving him at the moment is, I fear, impossible."

"Ungrateful man!" cried Mrs Proudie. "My lord, will you kindly beg Mr Slope to leave the room?"

My lord scratched his head, but said nothing. This was as much support as Mr Slope had expected.

"My lord," said the lady, "is Mr Slope to leave this room, or am I?" Here Mrs Proudie made a false step. She should not have mentioned the possibility of withdrawing from the battlefield. In answer to such a question, the bishop naturally said to himself that, as it was necessary for one of them to leave the room, perhaps it might as well be Mrs Proudie. But he still said nothing.

At last he broke his deep silence and declared himself a member of the Slope party. "Why, my dear," said he, "Mr Slope and I are very busy."

"My lord," said she, "am I to receive an answer or not?"

That was all. No more was necessary. He had gone into battle, put up with the heat and dust of the day, met his enemy, and won the victory. How easy success can be!

Mrs Proudie's anger was boiling over. She could not keep her temper as her enemy did, and so she was defeated.

Mr Slope saw at once how much he had gained, and turned a triumphant look on the lady. Here he was wrong. He should have looked humbly at her, and remembered that this victory would not last long. He could not arrange to divorce the bishop from his wife, he could not be present every moment of the day, he could not interfere in the privacy of the bedroom, when the wife wished "to speak to my lord alone".

But for the moment his triumph was complete, and Mrs Proudie left the room. Now the chaplain told the bishop, in plain words, that he must not let his wife interfere in future, and Dr Proudie, after some hesitation, agreed. Like a good child, the bishop received an immediate reward -- he was instructed to write another note to the archbishop, this time accepting the invitation. Mr Slope, more careful than the lady, put the note safely in his pocket. He also persuaded the bishop to see Mr Harding, with the intention of offering him the wardenship. And so Mr Slope, far from disappointed with his achievements, left the palace and posted the note with his own hands.

Mrs Proudie was surprised to find that her hard heart was touched, and she promised to do everything in her power to insist on Mr Quiverful's appointment as warden. Mrs Quiverful returned to Puddingdale, not very hopeful, but satisfied that she had done her best.

"Oh, Mrs Proudie! Think of my fourteen children!" Not a word did Mrs Quiverful say about herself, but the tears fell fast.

"Your husband has been most weak and foolish," Mrs Proudie said sternly. "I find I can do little for him in this matter."

Mrs Proudie returned unwillingly to her sitting room, where Mrs Quiverful was waiting anxiously for her.