He did not say a word to his wife on that afternoon about Dr Tempest; and she was so much taken up with his outward condition when he returned, as almost to have forgotten the letter.  He allowed himself, but barely allowed himself, to be made dry, and then for the remainder of the day applied himself to learn the lesson which Hoggett had endeavoured to teach him.  But the learning of it was not easy, and hardly became more easy when he had worked the problem out in his own mind, and discovered that the brickmaker’s doggedness simply meant self-abnegation—­that a man should force himself to endure anything that might be sent upon him, not only without outward grumbling, but also without grumbling inwardly.

Early on the next morning, he told his wife that he was going into Silverbridge.  ’It is that letter—­the letter which I got yesterday that calls me,’ he said.  And then he handed her the letter as to which he had refused to speak to her on the preceding day.

‘But this speaks of your going next Monday, Josiah,’ said Mrs Crawley.

‘I find it more suitable that I should go today,’ said he.  ’Some duty I do owe in this matter, both to the bishop, and to Dr Tempest, who, after a fashion is, as regards my present business, the bishop’s representative.  But I do not perceive that I owe it as a duty to either to obey implicitly their injunctions, and I will not submit myself to the cross-questioning of the man Thumble.  As I am purposed at present I shall express my willingness to give up the parish.’

‘Give up the parish altogether?’

‘Yes, altogether.’  As he spoke he clasped both his hands together, and having held them for a moment on high, allowed them to fall thus clasped before him.  ’I cannot give it up in part; I cannot abandon the duties and reserve the honorarium.  Nor would I if I could.’

‘I did not mean that, Josiah.  But pray think of it before you speak.’

‘I have thought of it, and I will think of it.  Farewell, my dear.’  Then he came up to her and kissed her, and started on his journey on foot to Silverbridge.

It was about noon when he reached Silverbridge, and he was told that Doctor Tempest was at home.  The servant asked him for a card.  ’I have no card,’ said Mr Crawley, ’but I will write my name for your behoof if your master’s hospitality will allow me paper and pencil.’  The name was written, and as Crawley waited in the drawing-room he spent his time in hating Dr Tempest because the door had been opened by a man-servant dressed in black.  Had the man been in livery he would have hated Dr Tempest all the same.  And he would have hated him a little had the door been opened by a smart maid.

‘Your letter came to hand yesterday morning, Dr Tempest,’ said Mr Crawley, still standing, though the doctor had pointed to a chair for him after shaking hands with him; ’and having given yesterday to the consideration of it, with what judgment I have been able to exercise, I have felt it to be incumbent upon me to wait upon you without further delay, as by doing so I may perhaps assist your views and save labour to those gentlemen who are joined with you in this commission of which you have spoken.  To some of them it may possibly be troublesome that they should be brought here on next Monday.