“No, I won’t. But, mamma, a Bishop of Westminster will be higher than a Bishop of Barchester; won’t he? I shall so like to be able to snub those Miss Proudies.” It will therefore be seen that there were matters on which even Griselda Grantly could be animated. Like the rest of her family she was devoted to the Church. Late on that afternoon the archdeacon returned home to dine in Mount Street, having spent the whole of the day between the Treasury chambers, a meeting of Convocation, and his club. And when he did get home it was soon manifest to his wife that he was not laden with good news. “It is almost incredible,” he said, standing with his back to the drawing-room fire. “What is incredible?” said his wife, sharing her husband’s anxiety to the full. “If I had not learned it as fact, I would not have believed it, even of Lord Brock,” said the archdeacon. “Learned what?” said the anxious wife. “After all, they are going to oppose the bill.” “Impossible!” said Mrs. Grantly. “But they are.” “The bill for the two new bishops, archdeacon? oppose their own bill!” “Yes—oppose their own bill. It is almost incredible; but so it is. Some changes have been forced upon us; little things which they had forgotten—quite minor matters; and they now say that they will be obliged to divide against us on these twopenny-halfpenny, hair-splitting points. It is Lord Brock’s own doing too, after all that he said about abstaining from factious opposition to the government.” “I believe there is nothing too bad or too false for that man,” said Mrs. Grantly. “After all they said, too, when they were in power themselves, as to the present government opposing the cause of religion! They declare now that Lord De Terrier cannot be very anxious about it, as he had so many good reasons against it a few weeks ago. Is it not dreadful that there should be such double-dealing in men in such positions?” “It is sickening,” said Mrs. Grantly. And then there was a pause between them as each thought of the injury that was done to them. “But, archdeacon—” “Well?” “Could you not give up those small points and shame them into compliance?” “Nothing would shame them.” “But would it not be well to try?” The game was so good a one, and the stake so important, that Mrs. Grantly felt that it would be worth playing for to the last. “It is no good.” “But I certainly would suggest it to Lord De Terrier. I am sure the country would go along with him; at any rate the Church would.” “It is impossible,” said the archdeacon. “To tell the truth, it did occur to me. But some of them down there seemed to think that it would not do.” Mrs. Grantly sat awhile on the sofa, still meditating in her mind whether there might not yet be some escape from so terrible a downfall. “But, archdeacon—” “I’ll go upstairs and dress,” said he, in despondency.