"Now, concerning this post of warden," he began, "of course you know the income would be very much reduced. In addition, you would be expected to have the house painted inside every seven years and outside every three years. And the duties -- well, I believe, if I am correctly informed, there were hardly any duties to speak of in the past." He gave a scornful laugh. "Things are a great deal changed, not only in Barchester, Mr Harding, but also in the wider world. Work is now required from every man who receives wages, and new men are needed in the Church, as in other professions. For example, the bishop is anxious to have a Sunday school attached to the Hospital, for the children of the poor, and the teachers would be under your control and care."

Two days later Mr Harding was called to the palace to discuss the wardenship of Hiram's Hospital with Mr Slope. The chaplain kept the old man waiting for half an hour, and when he did arrive, he behaved just as if he were an important man of business and Mr Harding a young man applying for a job.

Mr Harding was now getting very angry, which was what Mr Slope wanted. "And if I disagree with his lordship's views?" the old man asked, as calmly as he could.

"I shall consult my friends, but you may tell the bishop, Mr Slope, that I shall not accept the wardenship if I find the conditions that you mention are attached to it," and Mr Harding left the room.

"I suppose I had better see Quiverful?" said the chaplain.

Mr Slope was delighted. He considered he could take Mr Harding's last speech as an absolute refusal of the appointment, and that is what he told the bishop and Mrs Proudie.

The bishop was sorry to hear it, but Mrs Proudie said firmly, "There is no cause for sorrow. Mr Quiverful is more in need of it, and, as warden, will be much more useful to us."

"I hope you do not, but if you do, I assume you would feel unable to accept the post." Mr Slope intended Mr Harding to refuse the appointment, which would then be vacant for a person of his own choosing.

"I suppose you had," said the bishop.

Meanwhile poor Mr Harding was feeling very miserable. He had lost the wardenship a second time, and been insulted by a man young enough to be his son, but that he could put up with. What really made him unhappy was the thought that he belonged to the past, that his efforts were no longer needed or appreciated, that everything he had done might be worthless.

"He's a very clever man," said her father. "He has made her think he is a good and honest clergyman."

"How can Eleanor bear that Mr Slope?" she asked.

Mr Harding's next move was to discuss the matter with the archdeacon, so he drove to Plumstead in a hired carriage. Dr Grantly was out, so, while waiting for him, Mr Harding took the opportunity to discuss recent events with his daughter Susan.

He went first to Eleanor's house, to tell her his troubles, but found that Mr Slope had visited her the day before. The chaplain had made a very different speech to her from the one he had made to her father, full of flattery and heartfelt hopes that Mr Harding would take the wardenship. So she was surprised and disappointed to see her father looking so unhappy, and could not really sympathize with or understand his dislike of Mr Slope.

"Good and honest indeed!" said Susan scornfully. "I only hope he won't be clever enough to make her forget her position."

"Good heavens! Do you mean marry him?"

"What is so improbable about it? Of course that would be his plan if he thought he had any chance of success. Eleanor has a thousand pounds a year of her own."

"Oh father, how innocent you are! It is to be expected that she will marry again, but she should wait the proper time, and then at least marry a gentleman."

"But don't we look after her?"

"But you can't think she likes him, Susan?"

"Why not? She has no one to look after her."

Now Mr Harding had something else to worry about. To have as a son-in-law, the husband of his favourite child, the only man in the world whom he really disliked, would be a misfortune he felt he could not bear. In fact, if the truth were known, Eleanor had no more idea of marrying Mr Slope than of marrying the bishop. But it was true she had forgiven him his sermon, his pride, and even his shiny face and oily manners, so in time might she not accept him as an admirer? Strangely enough, Mr Slope was innocent of the crime he was being accused of. This man whose eyes were generally so wide open to everything around him had not yet discovered that the young widow was rich as well as beautiful. It was an error which he was soon to correct.

"It's all agreed," he said, rubbing his hands joyfully. "Arabin has accepted! If anyone can get rid of Slope, Arabin can."

Dr Grantly did not arrive until dinnertime. He was in an excellent mood and explained why, as they sat down to eat.

At the end of the meal Mr Harding finally managed to speak of what was worrying him. The archdeacon's response was firm.

Francis Arabin was an old Oxford friend of Dr Grantly's, a clergyman of the highest reputation, and also a gentleman. He and Mr Slope had been carrying on a long battle on spiritual matters in the letters pages of The Jupiter for some months now, and Dr Grantly thought his friend's intelligence and deep religious knowledge would be extremely useful in the fight against the Proudies. Mr Arabin had therefore been offered, and had accepted, the post of vicar of a small church near Plumstead. Dr Grantly was delighted that Arabin would be so near at hand, for advice and support, and amused that Mr Slope would come face to face with his spiritual enemy very soon.

And so the matter was arranged between them. Dr Grantly's good humour continued till bedtime, when, in the privacy of their room, Mrs Grantly gave him her opinion of what Eleanor might do. His face looked stern, and he said, "If she does, I'll never speak to her again. I won't be connected to such dirt as that," and he gave a shudder which shook the whole room.

"The bishop has no power to appoint a new man as warden, or indeed to make the warden a Sunday school teacher! All of Barchester expects you to return to Hiram's Hospital, and that's what you will do. I tell you what, my friend, I shall see the bishop when he has neither his wife nor his chaplain beside him, and I think you'll find the matter will end with you becoming warden without any conditions whatever. Leave it to me."

Mr Slope lost no time in visiting Mr Quiverful to ask if he would like to be warden of the Hospital. Mr Quiverful, in giving his enthusiastic reply, happened to mention that Mr Harding might not need the post because his daughter Eleanor had an income of a thousand a year. This unexpected information caused Mr Slope to cut short his visit, and he rode home, thinking hard. Why should he not marry the widow, and make the thousand pounds a year his own? And then it struck him that perhaps it would be easier to gain her approval, if he did all in his power to help her father become warden, instead of Quiverful.

He was confident he could manage this, although it would involve a complete change of direction, but he knew he must step cautiously. If he quarrelled with the Proudies and was then refused by the widow, he would have lost all his influence and power. He also remembered that Mrs Bold's brother-in-law was his enemy, the archdeacon, and swore he would never bow the knee to that man, not even for a thousand pounds a year.

He decided he urgently needed to find out the truth about Mrs Bold's fortune, so he started making enquiries at once. He was not a man who ever let much grass grow under his feet.

About the time that Mr Slope was visiting Mr Quiverful, a discussion took place at Dr Stanhope's house between Charlotte and Bertie about his unwillingness to earn any kind of income. Finally Charlotte said, in her sensible way, "Well, Bertie, if you won't work, will you marry a wife with money?"

Another circumstance influenced him. The vision of the signora was continually before his eyes. It would be too much to say Mr Slope was lost in love, but yet he thought he had never seen so beautiful a woman. He had never been so tempted before, and now it was difficult to resist the temptation -- it was hard to consider any plan which would require him to give up his special friendship with this lady.

"A baby that will very likely die. The lady is very beautiful, and she has a thousand pounds a year."

"I won't marry one without any," he replied. "But wives with money aren't easy to find nowadays -- the vicars pick them all up."

"And a vicar will pick up Mrs Bold too, if you don't hurry."

"Whew!" whistled Bertie. "A widow! With a son!"

"Madeline, I'm going to be married," Bertie began as soon as the servants had left.

"There's no other foolish thing left that you haven't done," said Madeline, "so you are quite right to try that."

"Well, that's Charlotte's advice to me. But your opinion ought to be the best; you have experience to guide you."

"Yes, I have," said Madeline in a hard voice. But she looked very sad, and Bertie was sorry that his words had hurt her.

Charlotte was just explaining to him that he must court the lady himself, and was praising her beauty, when Madeline was carried into the room by her servants.

"Well, no one can call me unreasonable, and if you'll arrange it all for me, I'll marry the widow."

"Charlotte wants me to marry Mrs Bold," he said. "She has a thousand a year and a fine baby son."

"If it's true she has a thousand a year and has ladylike manners, I advise you to marry her," said Madeline. "Even you aren't fool enough to marry for love. Marriage is a poor bargain for husband or wife. A man should not sacrifice his freedom unless he gets something in return, but a woman generally has no choice -- she has no other way of living."

"But Bertie has no other way of living!" said Charlotte.

Mr Slope's enquiries about the widow's income had determined him to try his hand at courting her. He had therefore attempted to persuade the bishop that the post of warden should be offered to Mr Harding, but matters were more complicated than he had imagined. Mrs Proudie, anxious for her power to be as visible as possible, had already made it clear to Mrs Quiverful that her husband would be appointed warden.

"Ah, my lord," said Mr Slope, half laughing, "we shall all be in trouble if the ladies interfere. I only speak, my lord, in your own best interests. As far as personal feelings go, Mrs Proudie is the best friend I have. But still, in my present position, my first duty is to your lordship." He smiled his most flattering smile.

"Then for heaven's sake let him marry Mrs Bold," said Madeline, and so it was decided.

He left the poor bishop dreadfully undecided, but on the whole almost determined to oppose Mrs Proudie's wishes, which was exactly what Mr Slope was hoping for.

"I do, my lord. What has passed between Mrs Proudie and Mrs Quiverful may be a little inconvenient, but I really do not think that should count in a matter of so much importance."

He sat down close to Eleanor and said confidentially, "May I ask you a simple question, Mrs Bold?"

"I am quite sure of that, Mr Slope," said the bishop gratefully. "Do you really think Mr Harding should be the warden?"

The chaplain then went on to call on Eleanor Bold, who was playing with baby Johnny in her sitting room. When Mr Slope was announced, Eleanor quickly pushed back her long dark hair, which the baby had pulled down from her widow's cap. Mr Slope stopped for a moment in the doorway, realizing at once how lovely she was, and thinking that, even if she had no fortune at all, she would bring comfort and joy to any man's home.

"Certainly," she smiled, "and I shall give you an honest answer."

"My question is this: is your father really anxious to go back to Hiram's Hospital as warden?"

"Why do you ask me? Why not ask him yourself?"

"My dear Mrs Bold, there are wheels within wheels, which I fear I have little time to explain to you. No one respects your father more than I do, but I doubt if he respects me." (He certainly did not.) "I am afraid there is a feeling in Barchester, I will not call it a prejudice, which runs against me, and your father shares this feeling. Can you deny it?"

Eleanor made no answer, and Mr Slope, in the eagerness of his speech, moved his chair a little nearer to hers. "That is why I cannot ask him this question as I can ask it of you. But you, my dear Mrs Bold, since I came to Barchester, you have allowed me to regard you as a friend." Eleanor moved her head slightly; it looked more like a shake than a nod, but Mr Slope took no notice of it. "To you I can speak openly, and express the feelings of my heart. When I spoke to your father about the post of warden, he gave me the impression he would refuse it, and so the bishop, perhaps mistakenly, has offered it to Mr Quiverful."

"Excuse me, my dear," he began. "If you are free, I wish to speak to you." Mrs Proudie looked sourly up at him, and his courage failed him. "But I see you are busy -- another time --"

Mr Slope would have given much to be allowed to dry those tears, but he knew his moment had not yet come. Instead he promised to do all he could to persuade the bishop to change his mind, his stated purpose being to protect the interests of Mr Harding, whom he so sincerely admired, and to bring greater happiness to Mrs Bold, whom he dared to call his friend. It was indeed a clever and convincing performance.

"Then, Mr Slope, there is an end of it!" and tears came to Eleanor's lovely eyes and rolled down her face.

At the bishop's palace, revolution was stirring. Since his recent conversation with Mr Slope, the bishop knew it was time to be firm with his wife. If he could only defeat her once, he would be a man indeed! So with great daring he went to her private sitting room to speak to her. He found her at her desk, adding up the bills and frowning over all the expense of a bishop's family.

"What is it, bishop?" asked the lady reluctantly.

"Mr Slope seems to think!" she said scornfully. "I hope, my lord, you will not allow yourself to be governed by a chaplain."

"It is about the Quiverfuls, my dear. But as you are busy --"

"What about the Quiverfuls? It is perfectly understood that they are to have the hospital. There is no doubt, is there?"

"Nonsense," said Mrs Proudie rudely. "Mr Quiverful will be the warden, not Mr Harding. And that's the end of it."

This was the moment when the bishop needed to show his bravery, in order to win the battle. He said, very gently, "Well, my dear, I just wanted to mention that Mr Slope seems to think Mr Harding should have the post."

"Certainly not, my dear. Nothing is less probable. But --"

"I believe you are right, my dear," said the bishop, creeping back to the safety of his study.

That evening Mr Slope heard from the bishop that Mrs Proudie's orders concerning the wardenship were to be obeyed. He also received a visit, in his room, from the lady of the house herself. She had something very particular to say to him.

"Good heavens, my dear madam," said Mr Slope with a look of horror. "Why, she is a married woman!"

Mr Slope now knew there certainly was not room in Barchester for the energies of both himself and Mrs Proudie; victory over her had become a matter of urgency.

"That is what she calls herself, certainly. Since then you have visited her and sat with her alone. I consider it my duty to warn you, Mr Slope, that that woman is not a suitable companion for an unmarried young clergyman like you." How Mr Slope hated her at this moment! But she had not finished. "There is another thing, Mr Slope. You are far too ready to interfere. Kindly do not give the bishop any more guidance at all. If his lordship wants advice, he knows where to look for it." And she sailed out.

"Mr Slope, I must tell you, I did not at all approve of your behaviour with that Italian woman at my reception. Anyone would have thought you were her lover."

Meanwhile Eleanor had been made aware of her family's concerns about her apparent liking for Mr Slope. When she had innocently mentioned Mr Slope's offer to help her father, Dr Grantly had accused her of betraying the family's interests in making such an unreliable friend, and Eleanor had felt angry that her brother-in-law, and even her dear father, did not respect her judgement. She was all the more annoyed, because she was not quite sure how far she herself trusted Mr Slope.

Perhaps this disagreement with Dr Grantly made her feel a little isolated, and perhaps that feeling of isolation made her more eager than she would normally have been to accept Charlotte's invitation to spend the evening at the Stanhopes' house.

Indeed, when she arrived there, and discovered Mr Slope was also one of the guests, she almost decided to leave at once. But clever Charlotte made her feel at home immediately; Eleanor was introduced to kind old Dr Stanhope, and was smiled on by Madeline. She had no suspicion that Mr Slope was planning to court her; nor did she notice how much time he spent at the signora's side, or even the guilty looks he sent in her direction. For most of the evening she was left alone with Bertie, and the time simply flew by. Bertie did not flatter her, or sigh like a lover, but he was amusing and friendly, yet at the same time respectful. And when he left Eleanor at her own door at one o'clock in the morning, after a delightful walk in the moonlight, she thought he was one of the most charming men she had ever met.