He was well aware that the palace would know his misfortune, that it was known, and freely discussed by all, from the examining chaplain down to the palace boot-boy;--nay, that it was known to all the diocese; but yet he could smile upon those around him, and look as though he held his own like other men,--unless when open violence was displayed.

But when that voice was heard aloud along the corridors of the palace, and when he was summoned imperiously by the woman, calling for her bishop, so that all Barchester heard it, and when he was compelled to creep forth from his study, at the sound of that summons, with distressed face, and shaking hands, and short hurrying steps,--a being to be pitied even by a deacon,--not venturing to assume an air of masterdom should he chance to meet a housemaid on the stairs,--then, at such moments as that, he would feel that any submission was better than the misery which he suffered.

And he well knew that should he now rebel, the whole house would be in a turmoil.
He would be bishoped here, and bishoped there, before the eyes of all palatial men and women, till life would be a burden to him.

So he got up from his seat over the fire, and went to his desk and wrote the letter.

The letter was as follows:-- The Palace, Barchester, -- December, 186--.
REVEREND SIR,--[he left out the dear, because he knew that if he inserted it he would be compelled to write the letter over again] I have heard to-day with the greatest trouble of spirit, that you have been taken before a bench of magistrates assembled at Silverbridge, having been previously arrested by the police in your parsonage house at Hogglestock, and that the magistrates of Silverbridge have committed you to take your trial at the next assizes at Barchester, on a charge of theft.
Far be it from me to prejudge the case.