'I am sorry to hear that you are too leave so soon,' said he, striving in vain to use his ordinary voice. In answer to this she muttered something about the necessity of her being in Barchester, and betook herself industriously to her crochet work.
Then there was a little more trite conversation between Mr Arabin and Mr Harding; trite, and hard, and vapid, and senseless. Neither of them had anything to say to the other, and yet neither at such a moment liked to remain silent. At last Mr Harding, taking advantage of a pause, escaped from the room, and Eleanor and Mr Arabin were left together.
'Your going will be a great break-up to our party,' said he.
She again muttered something which was all but inaudible; but kept her eyes fixed upon her work.
'We have had a very pleasant month her,' said he; 'at least I have; and I am sorry it should be so soon over.'
'I have already been from home longer than I intended,' she said; 'and it is time that I should return.'
'Well, pleasant hours and pleasant days must come to an end. It is a pity that so few of them are pleasant; or perhaps rather—'
'It is a pity, certainly, that men and women do so much to destroy the pleasantness of their days,' said she, interrupting him. 'It is a pity that there should be so little charity abroad.'
'Charity should begin at home,' said he; and he was proceeding to explain that he as a clergyman could not be what she would call charitable at the expense of those principles which he considered it his duty to teach, when he remembered that it would be worse than vain to argue on such a matter with the future wife of Mr Slope. 'But you are just leaving us,' he continued, 'and I will not weary your last hour with another lecture. As it is, I fear I have given you too many.'
'You should practise as well as preach, Mr Arabin?'