of his wife, and declared himself to be responsible for all the trouble about the cheque.
"Let it go," said Crawley, after sitting for awhile in silence; "let it pass."
"You cannot wonder, Crawley," said the dean, "that I should have felt myself obliged to speak of it."
"For the future it will be well that it should be forgotten," said Crawley; "or, if not forgotten, treated as though forgotten. And now, dean, what must I do about the living?"
"Just resume it, as though nothing had happened."
"But that may hardly be done without the bishop's authority. I speak, of course, with deference to your higher and better information on such subjects. My experience in the taking up and laying down of livings has not been extended. But it seemeth to me that though it may certainly be in your power to nominate me again to the perpetual curacy of this parish,—presuming your patronage to be unlimited and not to reach you in rotation only,—yet the bishop may demand to institute again, and must so demand, unless he pleases to permit that my letter to him shall be revoked and cancelled."
"Of course he will do anything of that kind. He must know the circumstances as well as you and I do."
"At present they tell me that he is much afflicted by the death of his wife, and, therefore, can hardly be expected to take immediate action. There came here on the last Sunday one Mr. Snapper, his lordship's chaplain."
"We all know Snapper," said the dean. "Snapper is not a bad little fellow."
"I say nothing of his being bad, my friend, but merely mention the fact that on Sunday morning last he performed the service in our church. On the Sunday previous, one Mr. Thumble was here."
"We all know Thumble, too," said the dean; "or, at least, know something about him."
"He has been a thorn in our sides," said Mrs. Crawley, unable to restrain the expression of her dislike when Mr. Thumble's name was mentioned.
"Nay, my dear, nay;—do not allow yourself the use of language so strong against a brother. Our flesh at that time was somewhat prone to fester, and little thorns made us very sore."
"He is a horrible man," said Jane, almost in a whisper; but the words were distinctly audible by the dean.
"They need not come any more," said Arabin.
