Anthony Trollope: Barchester Towers

52. CHAPTER LII: THE NEW DEAN TAKES POSSESSION OF THE DEANERY AND THE NEW WARDEN OF THE HOSPITAL (continued)

It was arranged that Mr Arabin should know nothing of what had been done till he received the minister's letter from the hands of his embryo father-in-law. In order that no time be lost, a message had been sent to him by the preceding night's post, begging him to be at the deanery at the hour that the train from London arrived. There was nothing in this which surprised Mr Arabin. It had somehow got about through all bah that Mr Harding was the new dean, and all Barchester was prepared to welcome him with pealing bells and full hearts. Mr Slope had certainly had a party; there had certainly been those in Barchester who were prepared to congratulate him on his promotion with assumed sincerity, but even his own party were not broken-hearted by his failure. The inhabitants of the city, even the high-souled ecstatic young ladies of thirty-five, had begun to comprehend that their welfare and the welfare of the place, was connected in some mysterious manner with the daily chants of the bi-weekly anthems. The expenditure of the palace had not added greatly to the popularity of the bishop's side of the question; and, on the whole, there was a strong reaction. When it became known to all the world that Mr Harding was to be the new dean, all the world rejoiced heartily.

Mr Arabin, as we have said, was not surprised at the summons which called him to the deanery. He had not as yet seen Mr Harding since Eleanor had accepted him, nor had he seen him since he had learnt of his future father-in-law's preferment. There was nothing more natural, more necessary, than that they should meet each other at the earliest possible moment.

Mr Arabin was waiting at the deanery parlour when Mr Harding and Dr Grantly were driven up from the station.

There was some excitement in the bosoms of them all, as they met and shook hands; but far too much to enable either of them to begin his story and tell it in a proper equable style of narrative. Mr Harding was some minutes quite dumbfounded, and Mr Arabin could only talk in short, spasmodic sentences about his love and good fortune. He slipped in, as best he could, some sort of congratulation about the deanship, and then went on with his hopes and fears--hopes that he might be received as a son, and fears that he hardly deserved such good fortune. Then he went back to the dean; it was the most thoroughly satisfactory appointment, he said, of which he had ever heard.