MR. SLOPE BIDS FAREWELL.
"Hum, ha,—Mr. Slope, pray take a chair," said the gentleman bishop.
"Pray be seated, Mr. Slope," said the lady bishop.
"Thank ye, thank ye," said Mr. Slope, and walking round to the fire, he threw himself into one of the arm-chairs that graced the hearth-rug.
"Mr. Slope," said the bishop, "it has become necessary that I should speak to you definitely on a matter that has for some time been pressing itself on my attention."
"May I ask whether the subject is in any way connected with myself?" said Mr. Slope.
"It is so,—certainly,—yes, it certainly is connected with yourself, Mr. Slope."
"Then, my lord, if I may be allowed to express a wish, I would prefer that no discussion on the subject should take place between us in the presence of a third person."
"Don't alarm yourself, Mr. Slope," said Mrs. Proudie, "no discussion is at all necessary. The bishop merely intends to express his own wishes."
"I merely intend, Mr. Slope, to express my own wishes,—no discussion will be at all necessary," said the bishop, reiterating his wife's words.
"That is more, my lord, than we any of us can be sure of," said Mr. Slope; "I cannot, however, force Mrs. Proudie to leave the room; nor can I refuse to remain here if it be your lordship's wish that I should do so."
"It is his lordship's wish, certainly," said Mrs. Proudie.
"Mr. Slope," began the bishop, in a solemn, serious voice, "it grieves me to have to find fault. It grieves me much to have to find fault with a clergyman; but especially so with a clergyman in your position."
"Why, what have I done amiss, my lord?" demanded Mr. Slope, boldly.
"What have you done amiss, Mr. Slope?" said Mrs. Proudie, standing erect before the culprit, and raising that terrible forefinger. "Do you dare to ask the bishop what you have done amiss? does not your conscience"
"Mrs. Proudie, pray let it be understood, once for all, that I will have no words with you."
"Ah, sir, but you will have words," said she; "you must
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