She looked into his eyes as he spoke, and there was something of the flash of old days, when the world was young to them, and when he would tell her of his hopes, and repeat to her long passages of poetry, and would criticise for her advantage the works of the old writers.  ’Thank God,’ she said, ’that you are not blind.  It may yet be all right with you.’

‘Yes—­it may be,’ he said.

‘And you shall not be at the mill with slaves.’

’Or, at any rate, not eyeless in Gaza, if the Lord is good to me.  Come, Jane, we will go on.’  Then he took up the passage himself, and read it on with clear, sonorous voice, every now and then explaining some passage or expressing his own ideas upon it, as though he were really happy with his poetry.

It was late in the evening before he got out his small stock of best letter-paper, and sat down to work at his letter.  He first addressed himself to the bishop; and what he wrote down to the bishop was as follows:-

’Hogglestock parsonage, April 11, 186-

’My lord bishop,

’I have been in communication with Dr Tempest, of Silverbridge, from whom I have learned that your lordship has been pleased to appoint a commission of inquiry—­of which commission he is the chairman—­with reference to the proceedings which it may be necessary that you should take, as bishop of the diocese, after my forthcoming trial at the approaching Barchester assizes.  My lord, I think it right to inform you, partly with a view to the comfort of the gentlemen named on that commission, and partly with the purport of giving you the information which I think that a bishop should possess in regard to the clerical affairs of his own diocese, that I have by this post resigned my preferment at Hogglestock into the hands of the Dean of Barchester, by whom it was given to me.  In these circumstances, it will, I suppose, be unnecessary for you to continue the commission which you have set in force; but as to that, your lordship will, of course, be the only judge.—­I have the honour to be, my Lord Bishop, your most obedient and very humble servant,

’Josiah Crawley
Perpetual Curate of Hogglestock
’The Right Reverend
’The Bishop of Barchester,
’&c, &c, &c
The Palace, Barchester’

But the letter which was of real importance—­which was intended to say something—­was that to the dean, and that also shall be given to the reader.  Mr Crawley had been for a while in doubt how he should address his old friend in commencing this letter, understanding that its tone throughout must be, in a great degree, be mad conformable with its first words.  He would fain, in his pride, have begun ‘Sir’.  The question was between that and ‘My dear Arabin’.  It had once between them always been ‘Dear Frank,’ and Dear Joe’’ but the occasions for ‘Dear Frank’ and ‘Dear Joe’ between them had long been past.  Crawley would have been very angry had he now been called Joe by the dean, and would have bitten his tongue out before he would have called the dean Frank.  His better nature, however, now prevailed, and he began his letter, and completed it as follows:-