IV.—­The Warden Resigns

When Eleanor informed her father of the end of the lawsuit the warden did not express himself peculiarly gratified at the intelligence.  His own mind was already made up.  A third article had appeared in the Jupiter, calling on Mr. Harding to give an account of his stewardship, and how it was that he consumed three-fifths of Hiram’s charity.  “I tell you what, my dear,” he said, while Eleanor stared at him as though she scarcely understood the words he was speaking, “I can’t dispute the truth of these words.  I do believe I have no right to be here.  No right to be warden with L800 a year; no right to spend in luxury money that was intended for charity.  I will go up to London, my dear, and see these lawyers myself.  There are some things which a man cannot bear—­” and he put his hand upon the newspaper.

And to London Mr. Harding went, stealing a march upon the archdeacon, who with Mrs. Grantly pursued him twenty-four hours later.  By that time the warden had obtained an interview with the great Sir Abraham Haphazard.  “What I want you, Sir Abraham, to tell me is this,” said Mr. Harding.  “Am I, as warden, legally and distinctly entitled to the proceeds of the property after the due maintenance of the twelve bedesmen?”

Sir Abraham declared that he couldn’t exactly say in so many words that Mr. Harding was legally entitled to, etc., etc., and ended in expressing a strong opinion that, as the other side had given notice of withdrawing the suit, it would be madness to raise any further question on the matter.

“I can resign,” said Mr. Harding, slowly.

“What! throw it up altogether?” said the attorney general.  “Believe me, it is sheer Quixotism.”

But Mr. Harding’s mind was made up.  He knew that the attorney general regarded him as a fool, but Eleanor, he was sure, would exult in what he had done, and his old friend, the bishop, he trusted, would sympathise with him.  Back at his hotel in St. Paul’s Churchyard Mr. Harding had to face the archdeacon.  In vain Dr. Grantly argued.  “I shall certainly resign this wardenship,” said Mr. Harding.  The letter of resignation was posted to the bishop, and the warden returned home.  The bishop at once wrote to him full of affection, condolence, and praise, and besought him to come and live at the palace.

It was hard for Mr. Harding to make the bishop understand that this would not suit him, and that the only real favour he could confer was the continuation of his independent friendship; but at last even this was done.  “At any rate,” thought the bishop, “he will come and dine with me from time to time, and if he be absolutely starving I shall see it.”  It was settled that Mr. Harding should still be the precentor of the cathedral, and a small living within the walls of the city was given to him.  It was the smallest possible parish, containing a part of the cathedral close and a few old houses adjoining.  The church was no bigger than an ordinary room—­perhaps twenty-seven feet long by eighteen wide—­but still it was a perfect church.  Such was the living of St. Cuthbert’s at Barchester, of which Mr. Harding became rector, with a clear income of L75 a year.