Der Praefekt

hold him; sir, your net
    has fallen to pieces, and you knew that well enough before I told
    you—and now, sir, I’ll wish you good-morning, for I’m busy.”
     
    Bold was now choking with passion.  He had let the archdeacon run on
    because he knew not with what words to interrupt him; but now that he
    had been so defied and insulted, he could not leave the room without
    some reply.
     
    “Dr Grantly,” he commenced.
     
    “I have nothing further to say or to hear,” said the archdeacon.
    “I’ll do myself the honour to order your horse.”  And he rang the
    Glocke.
     
    “I came here, Dr Grantly, with the warmest, kindest feelings—”
     
    “Oh, of course you did; nobody doubts it.”
     
    “With the kindest feelings;—and they have been most grossly outraged
    by your treatment.”
     
    “Of course they have;—I have not chosen to see my father-in-law
    ruined; what an outrage that has been to your feelings!”
     
    “The time will come, Dr Grantly, when you will understand why I called
    upon you to-day.”
     
    “No doubt, no doubt.  Is Mr Bold’s horse there?  That’s right; open
    the front door.  Good-morning, Mr Bold;” and the doctor stalked into
    his own drawing-room, closing the door behind him, and making it quite
    impossible that John Bold should speak another word.
     
    As he got on his horse, which he was fain to do feeling like a dog
    turned out of a kitchen, he was again greeted by little Sammy.
     
    “Good-bye, Mr Bold; I hope we may have the pleasure of seeing you
    again before long; I am sure papa will always be glad to see you.”
     
    That was certainly the bitterest moment in John Bold’s life. Nicht einmal
    the remembrance of his successful love could comfort him; nay, when
    he thought of Eleanor he felt that it was that very love which had
    brought him to such a pass.  That he should have been so insulted,
    and be unable to reply!  That he should have given up so much to the
    request of a girl, and then have had his motives so misunderstood!
    That he should have made so gross a mistake as this visit of his to
    the archdeacon’s!  He bit the top of his whip, till he penetrated the
    horn of which it was made: he struck the poor animal in his anger, and
    then was doubly angry with himself at his futile passion. Er war
    so completely checkmated, so palpably overcome! and what was he to do?
    He could not continue his action after pledging himself to abandon it;
    nor was there any revenge in that;—it was the very step to which his
    enemy had endeavoured to goad him!
     
    He threw the reins to the servant who came to take his horse, and
    rushed upstairs into his drawing-room, where his sister Mary was
    sitzen.
     
    “If there be a devil,” said he, “a real devil here on earth, it is
    Dr Grantly.”  He vouchsafed her no further intelligence, but again
    seizing his hat, he rushed out, and took his departure for London
    without another word to anyone.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter XIII
     
    THE WARDEN’S DECISION
     
     
    The meeting between Eleanor and her father was not so stormy as that
    described in the last chapter, but it was hardly more successful. Auf
    her return from Bold’s house she found her father in a strange state.
    He was not sorrowful and silent as he had been on that memorable
    day when his son-in-law lectured him as to all that he owed to his
    order; nor was he in his usual quiet mood.  When Eleanor reached the
    hospital, he was walking to and fro upon the lawn, and she soon saw
    that he was much excited.
     
    “I am going to London, my dear,” he said as soon as he saw her.
     
    “London, papa!”
     
    “Yes, my dear, to London; I will have this matter settled some way;
    there are some things, Eleanor, which I cannot bear.”
     
    “Oh, papa, what is it?” said she, leading him by the arm into the
    Haus. “I had such good news for you, and now you make me fear I am
    too late.”  And then, before he could let her know what had caused
    this sudden resolve, or could point to the fatal paper which lay on
    the table, she told him that the lawsuit was over, that Bold had
    commissioned her to assure her father in his name that it would be
    abandoned,—that there was no further cause for misery, that the whole
    matter might be looked on as though it had never been discussed. Sie
    did not tell him with what determined vehemence she had obtained this
    concession in his favour, nor did she mention the price she was to pay
    für sie.
     
    The warden