If you do not, you will be apt to find that you have no friends left who can advise you." Eleanor blushed up to the roots of her hair.

But even now she had not the slightest idea of what was passing in the archdeacon's mind.
No thought of love-making or love-receiving had yet found its way to her heart since the death of poor John Bold, and if it were possible that such a thought should spring there, the man must be far different from Mr.Slope that could give it birth.
Nevertheless Eleanor blushed deeply, for she felt she was charged with improper conduct, and she did so with the more inward pain because her father did not instantly rally to her side--that father for whose sake and love she had submitted to be the receptacle of Mr.
Slope's confidence.

She had given a detailed account of all that had passed to her father, and though he had not absolutely agreed with her about Mr.Slope's views touching the hospital, yet he had said nothing to make her think that she had been wrong in talking to him.
She was far too angry to humble herself before her brother-in-law.
Indeed, she had never accustomed herself to be very abject before him, and they had never been confidential allies.

"I do not the least understand what you mean, Dr.Grantly," said she.

"I do not know that I can accuse myself of doing anything that my friends should disapprove.