‘That is all that I require, Mr Crawley.’

‘But it is wholly unnecessary that you should instruct me in mine.’

‘The bishop especially desires—­’ began Mr Thumble.  But Mr Crawley interrupted him instantly.

’If the bishop has directed you to give me such instructions, the bishop is much in error.  I will submit to receive none from him through you, sir.  If you please, sir, let there be an end of it’; and Mr Crawley waved his hand.  I hope the reader will conceive the tone of Mr Crawley’s voice, and will appreciate the aspect of his face, and will see the motion of his hand, as he spoke these latter words.  Mr Thumble felt the power of the man so sensibly that he was unable to carry on the contest.  Thought Mr Crawley was now but a broken reed, and was beneath his feet, yet Mr Thumble acknowledged to himself that he could not hold his own in debate with this broken reed.  But the words had been spoken, and the tone of the voice had died away, and the fire in the eyes had burned itself out before the moment of the major’s arrival.  Mr Thumble was now returning to his horse, and having enjoyed—­if he did enjoy—­his little triumph about the parish, was becoming unhappy at the future dangers that awaited him.  Perhaps he was the more unhappy because it had been proposed to him by the authorities at the palace that he should repeatedly ride on the same animal from Barchester to Hogglestock and back.  Mr Crawley was in the act of replying to his lamentations on this subject with his hand on the latch, when the major arrived—­’I regret to say, sir that I cannot assist you by supplying any other steed.’  Then the major had knocked, and Mr Crawley had at once opened the door.

‘You probably do not remember me, Mr Crawley?’ said the major.  ’I am Major Grantly.’  Mrs Crawley, who heard these words inside the room, sprang up from her chair, and could hardly resist the temptation to rush into the passage.  She too had barely seen Major Grantly; and now the only bright gleam which appeared on her horizon depended on his constancy under circumstances which would have justified his inconstancy.  But had he meant to be inconstant, surely he would never have come to Hogglestock!’

‘I remember you well, sir,’ said Mr Crawley.  ’I am under no common obligation to you.  You are at present one of my bailsmen.’

‘There’s nothing in that,’ said the major.

Mr Thumble had caught the name of Grantly, took off his hat, which he had put on his head.  He had not been particular in keeping off his hat before Mr Crawley.  But he knew well that Archdeacon Grantly was a big man in the diocese; and though the Grantlys and the Proudies were opposed to each other, still it might be well to take off his hat before anyone who had to do with the big ones of the diocese.  ’I hope your respected father is well, sir?’ said Mr Thumble.

‘Pretty well, I thank you.’  The major stood close up against the wall of the passage, so as to allow room for Mr Thumble to pass out.  His business was one on which he could hardly begin to speak until the visitor had gone.  Mr Crawley was standing with the door wide open in his hand.  He also was anxious to be rid of Mr Thumble—­and was perhaps not so solicitous as a brother clergyman should have touching the future fate of Mr Thumble in the matter of the bishop’s old cob.