Chapter XIII begins at a quiet hour, but within Mr. Harding’s heart, a firm decision has already been made. News brought by Eleanor—that John Bold is withdrawing the lawsuit—might seem to clear the air, but it does little to ease his conscience. Instead of feeling relief, Mr. Harding grows more certain that he must resign from his post. Despite his love for Eleanor and gratitude for Bold’s reversal, he knows the matter goes deeper than legal battles. The recent newspaper article, harsh and public in tone, cuts deeply into his sense of honor. While its exaggerations may not be wholly fair, the essence of its criticism strikes true. He realizes the perception of impropriety, even if legally unfounded, taints the dignity of the position he holds. Thus, a plan is quietly made: he will go to London and take action before the Archdeacon can dissuade him.

As Eleanor reads the editorial aloud, its words sting with accusation. It casts Mr. Harding as a symbol of misuse—of a well-intentioned endowment turned into clerical excess. Though Eleanor hopes to soothe him, her reading only strengthens his resolve. Mr. Harding, listening intently, sees in every line the reflection of public sentiment and, more painfully, the truth of his own discomfort. His acceptance of a large income, when contrasted with the simplicity and need of the hospital’s residents, no longer feels justifiable. This moment becomes more than personal; it feels moral. The article may be political in tone, but to Mr. Harding, it speaks plainly to a deeper ethical breach. Rather than defend himself against it, he decides to step away entirely. The weight of public scrutiny, coupled with private conviction, cannot be ignored.

Eleanor’s reaction is mixed with sadness and admiration. She knows her father’s heart is in the right place, even if the road ahead may be difficult. Her concern is not for herself, but for the toll this decision will take on him—physically, emotionally, and financially. She reflects on the comfort they would leave behind and the uncertainty ahead. But within that uncertainty lies integrity, and that alone brings her comfort. Eleanor had hoped her involvement with Bold might have eased tensions, but it is clear now that peace will not come from placating critics. It must come from personal clarity. Mr. Harding’s strength does not show in loud declarations but in quiet choices that reveal profound character.

Later that evening, Mr. Harding takes out paper and begins writing his letter of resignation. The act itself feels both solemn and liberating. Each sentence becomes a quiet farewell to a life of comfort and duty. The hospital, with all its memories and meaning, will no longer be his charge. As he writes, he does not waver. He feels sorrow, yes, but not regret. His decision, made freely and deliberately, echoes the values he’s lived by. He hopes, silently, that others—perhaps even the Archdeacon—will someday understand this gesture not as surrender, but as dignity. In that moment, he is not simply a warden resigning a post; he is a man reaffirming his beliefs in fairness and humility.

Before the letter is sealed, Mr. Harding gazes at his surroundings with new eyes. The familiar room, filled with items acquired through years of steady income, suddenly feels less like home. He knows that material loss will follow his decision, but spiritual peace, long absent, now quietly returns. What he gives up in reputation and revenue, he gains in inner harmony. And while the world outside may judge differently, he feels lighter than he has in months. Eleanor, watching her father from across the room, sees that too. She no longer pleads for a change of course. Instead, she chooses to stand with him—wherever that path may lead.

In resigning from his role, Mr. Harding does more than exit a position—he reclaims his identity. The chapter closes not with a dramatic confrontation, but with a quiet gesture rooted in ethical clarity. His legacy will not be defined by wealth or titles, but by this very moment of moral courage. And in that, Trollope captures the quiet heroism of choosing what is right, even when no one is watching.