There was consternation in the palace when this was received. So stiffnecked a man, so obstinate, so unclerical,—so determined to make much of little! The Bishop had felt himself bound to warn a clergyman that, for the sake of the Church, he could not do altogether as other men might. No doubt certain ladies had got around him,—especially Lady Margaret Momson,—filling his ears with the horrors of the Doctor's proceedings. The gentleman who had written the article about the Greek and the Latin words had seen the truth of the thing at once,—so said Lady Margaret. The Doctor had condoned the offence committed by the Peacockes because the woman had been beautiful, and was repaying himself for his mercy by basking in her loveliness. There was no saying that there was not some truth in this? Mrs. Wortle herself entertained a feeling of the same kind. It was palpable, on the face of it, to all except Dr. Wortle himself,—and to Mrs. Peacocke. Mrs. Stantiloup, who had made her way into the palace, was quite convincing on this point. Everybody knew, she said, that the Doctor went across, and saw the lady all alone, every day. Everybody did not know that. If everybody had been accurate, everybody would have asserted that he did this thing every other day. But the matter, as it was represented to the Bishop by the ladies, with the assistance of one or two clergymen in the Close, certainly seemed to justify his lordship's interference.
But this that was threatened was very terrible. There was a determination about the Doctor which made it clear to the Bishop that he would be as bad as he said. When he, the Bishop, had spoken of scandal, of course he had not intended to say that the Doctor's conduct was scandalous; nor had he said anything of the kind. He had used the word in its proper sense,—and had declared that offence would be created in the minds of people unless an injurious report were stopped. "It is not enough to be innocent," he had said, "but men must know that we are so." He had declared in that his belief in Dr. Wortle's innocence. But yet there might, no doubt, be an action for libel against the newspaper. And when damages came to be considered, much weight would be placed naturally on the attention which the Bishop had paid to the article. The result of this was that the Bishop invited the Doctor to come and spend a night with him in the palace.
The Doctor went, reaching the palace only just before dinner. During dinner and in the drawing-room Dr. Wortle made himself very pleasant. He was a man who could always be soft and gentle in a drawing-room. To see him talking with Mrs. Rolland and the Bishop's daughters, you would not have thought that there was anything wrong with him. The discussion with the Bishop came after that, and lasted till midnight. "It will be for the disadvantage of the diocese that this matter should be dragged into Court,—and for the disadvantage of the Church in general that a clergyman should seem to seek such redress against his bishop." So said the Bishop.
But the Doctor was obdurate. "I seek no redress," he said, "against my bishop. I seek redress against a newspaper which has calumniated me. It is your good opinion, my lord,—your good opinion or your ill opinion which is the breath of my nostrils. I have to refer to you in order that I may show that this paper, which I should otherwise have despised, has been strong enough to influence that opinion."
CHAPTER III.
"'AMO' IN THE COOL OF THE EVENING."
The Doctor went up to London, and was told by his lawyers that an action for damages probably would lie. "'Amo' in the cool of the evening," certainly meant making love. There could be no doubt that allusion was made to Mrs. Peacocke. To accuse a clergyman of a parish, and a schoolmaster, of making love to a lady so circumstanced as Mrs. Peacocke, no doubt was libellous. Presuming that the libel could not be justified, he would probably succeed. "Justified!" said the Doctor, almost shrieking, to his lawyers; "I never said a word to the lady in my life except in pure kindness and charity. Every word might have been heard by all the world." Nevertheless, had all the world been present, he would not have held her hand so tenderly or so long as he had done on a certain occasion which has been mentioned.
"They will probably apologise," said the lawyer.
"Shall I be bound to accept their apology?"