"Mrs. Proudie," said Mr. Slope, "I am quite aware how much I owe to your kindness. But my duty in this matter is to his lordship. He has approved of what I have done, and having that approval, and my own, I want none other."
What horrid words were these which greeted the ear of Mrs. Proudie? Here was premeditated mutiny in the camp. The bishop had not yet been twelve months in the chair, and rebellion had already reared her hideous head in the palace.
"Mr. Slope," said Mrs. Proudie, with slow and dignified voice, "I will trouble you, if you please, to leave the apartment. I wish to speak to my lord alone."
Mr. Slope felt that everything depended on the present interview. Should the bishop now be repetticoated his thralldom would be complete and for ever. Now was the moment for victory or rout. It was now that Mr. Slope must make himself master of the diocese, or else resign his place and begin his search for fortune elsewhere.
"His lordship has summoned me on most important diocesan business," said Mr. Slope, glancing with uneasy eye at Dr. Proudie; "my leaving him at the present moment is, I fear, impossible."
"Do you bandy words with me, you ungrateful man?" said the lady. "My lord, is Mr. Slope to leave this room, or am I?"
His lordship twiddled his thumbs, and then proclaimed himself a Slopeite.
"Why, my dear," said he, "Mr. Slope and I are very busy."
That was all. There was nothing more necessary. Mr. Slope saw at once the full amount of his gain, and turned on the vanquished lady a look of triumph which she never forgot and never forgave.
Mrs. Proudie without further parley left the room; and then followed a close conference between the new allies. The chaplain told the bishop that the world gave him credit for being under the governance of his wife, and the bishop pledged himself with Mr. Slope's assistance to change his courses.