"The man is absolutely a coward.

He is afraid to see me.
Ill, indeed!" The archdeacon was never ill himself, and did not therefore understand that anyone else could in truth be prevented by illness from keeping an appointment.

He regarded all such excuses as subterfuges, and in the present instance he was not far wrong.
Dr.Grantly desired to be driven to his father-in-law's lodgings in the High Street, and hearing from the servant that Mr.Harding was at his daughter's, followed him to Mrs.Bold's house, and there found him.

The archdeacon was fuming with rage when he got into the drawing-room, and had by this time nearly forgotten the pusillanimity of the bishop in the villainy of the chaplain.
"Look at that," said he, throwing Mr.Slope's crumpled note to Mr.
Harding.

"I am to be told that if I choose I may have the honour of seeing Mr.Slope, and that too after a positive engagement with the bishop." "But he says the bishop is ill," said Mr.Harding.
"Pshaw! You don't mean to say that you are deceived by such an excuse as that.