do that: he would leave the place to-morrow willingly, and give up his house, and the income and all, if the archdeacon" Eleanor was going to say "would let him," but she stopped herself before she had compromised her father's dignity; and giving a long sigh, she added—"Oh, I do so wish he would."
"No one who knows Mr. Harding personally, accuses him for a moment," said Bold.
"It is he that has to bear the punishment; it is he that suffers," said Eleanor; "and what for? what has he done wrong? how has he deserved this persecution? he that never had an unkind thought in his life, he that never said an unkind word!" and here she broke down, and the violence of her sobs stopped her utterance.
Bold, for the fifth or sixth time, declared that neither he nor any of his friends imputed any blame personally to Mr. Harding.
"Then why should he be persecuted?" ejaculated Eleanor through her tears, forgetting in her eagerness that her intention had been to humble herself as a suppliant before John Bold—"why should he be singled out for scorn and disgrace? why should he be made so wretched? Oh! Mr. Bold,"—and she turned towards him as though the kneeling scene were about to be commenced—"oh! Mr. Bold, why did you begin all this? you whom we all so—so—valued!"
To speak the truth, the reformer's punishment was certainly come upon him, for his present plight was not enviable; he had nothing for it but to excuse himself by platitudes about public duty, which it is by no means worth while to repeat, and to reiterate his eulogy on Mr. Harding's character. His position was certainly a cruel one: had any gentlemen called upon him on behalf of Mr. Harding he could of course have declined to enter upon the subject; but how could he do so
