Der Praefekt

into
    Ausschuss. A hundred and six clauses had already been discussed and
    had occupied only four mornings and five evening sittings; nine of
    the hundred and six clauses were passed, fifty-five were withdrawn
    by consent, fourteen had been altered so as to mean the reverse of
    the original proposition, eleven had been postponed for further
    consideration, and seventeen had been directly negatived.  The hundred
    and seventh ordered the bodily searching of nuns for jesuitical
    symbols by aged clergymen, and was considered to be the real mainstay
    of the whole bill.  No intention had ever existed to pass such a law
    as that proposed, but the government did not intend to abandon it
    till their object was fully attained by the discussion of this clause.
    It was known that it would be insisted on with terrible vehemence by
    Protestant Irish members, and as vehemently denounced by the Roman
    Catholic; and it was justly considered that no further union between
    the parties would be possible after such a battle.  The innocent Irish
    fell into the trap as they always do, and whiskey and poplins became a
    drug in the market.
     
    A florid-faced gentleman with a nice head of hair, from the south of
    Ireland, had succeeded in catching the speaker’s eye by the time that
    Mr Harding had got into the gallery, and was denouncing the proposed
    sacrilege, his whole face glowing with a fine theatrical frenzy.
     
    “And this is a Christian country?” sagte er. (Loud cheers; counter
    cheers from the ministerial benches.  “Some doubt as to that,” from
    a voice below the gangway.)  “No, it can be no Christian country,
    in which the head of the bar, the lagal adviser (loud laughter and
    cheers)—yes, I say the lagal adviser of the crown (great cheers and
    laughter)—can stand up in his seat in this house (prolonged cheers
    and laughter), and attempt to lagalise indacent assaults on the bodies

of religious ladies.”  (Deafening cheers and laughter, which were
    prolonged till the honourable member resumed his seat.)
     
    When Mr Harding had listened to this and much more of the same kind
    for about three hours, he returned to the door of the House, and
    received back from the messenger his own note, with the following
    words scrawled in pencil on the back of it: “To-morrow, 10 P.M.—my
    chambers.—A.  H.”
     
    He was so far successful;—but 10 P.M.: what an hour Sir Abraham had
    named for a legal interview!  Mr Harding felt perfectly sure that long
    before that Dr Grantly would be in London.  Dr Grantly could not,
    however, know that this interview had been arranged, nor could he
    learn it unless he managed to get hold of Sir Abraham before that
    hour; and as this was very improbable, Mr Harding determined to
    start from his hotel early, merely leaving word that he should dine
    out, and unless luck were much against him, he might still escape the
    archdeacon till his return from the attorney-general’s chambers.
     
    He was at breakfast at nine, and for the twentieth time consulted his
    Bradshaw, to see at what earliest hour Dr Grantly could arrive from
    Barchester.  As he examined the columns, he was nearly petrified
    by the reflection that perhaps the archdeacon might come up by the
    night-mail train!  His heart sank within him at the horrid idea,
    and for a moment he felt himself dragged back to Barchester without
    accomplishing any portion of his object.  Then he remembered that had
    Dr Grantly done so, he would have been in the hotel, looking for him
    long since.
     
    “Waiter,” said he, timidly.
     
    The waiter approached, creaking in his shoes, but voiceless.
     
    “Did any gentleman,—a clergyman, arrive here by the night-mail
    train?”
     
    “No, sir, not one,” whispered the waiter, putting his mouth nearly
    close to the warden’s ear.
     
    Mr Harding was reassured.
     
    “Waiter,” said he again, and the waiter again creaked up.  “If anyone
    calls for me, I am going to dine out, and shall return about eleven
    Uhr. “
     
    The waiter nodded, but did not this time vouchsafe any reply; and Mr
    Harding, taking up his hat, proceeded out to pass a long day in the
    best way he could, somewhere out of sight of the archdeacon.
     
    Bradshaw had told him twenty times that Dr Grantly could not be at
    Paddington station till 2 P.M., and our poor friend might therefore
    have trusted to the shelter of the hotel for some hours longer with
    perfect safety; but he was nervous.  There was no knowing