[Editorial] mêlée → melee

src/epub/text/chapter-52.xhtml

@@ -30,7 +30,7 @@
 			<p>“And who is to be dean?” asked <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Arabin.</p>
 			<p>“Yes, that’s the question,” said the archdeacon. “Come, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Precentor, since you obstinately refuse to be anything else, let us know who is to be the man. He has got the nomination in his pocket.”</p>
 			<p>With eyes brim full of tears, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Harding pulled out the letter and handed it to his future son-in-law. He tried to make a little speech but failed altogether. Having given up the document, he turned round to the wall, feigning to blow his nose, and then sat himself down on the old dean’s dingy horsehair sofa. And here we find it necessary to bring our account of the interview to an end.</p>
-			<p>Nor can we pretend to describe the rapture with which <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Harding was received by his daughter. She wept with grief and wept with joy⁠—with grief that her father should, in his old age, still be without that rank and worldly position which, according to her ideas, he had so well earned; and with joy in that he, her darling father, should have bestowed on that other dear one the good things of which he himself would not open his hand to take possession. And here <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Harding again showed his weakness. In the <i xml:lang="fr">mêlée</i> of this exposal of their loves and reciprocal affection, he found himself unable to resist the entreaties of all parties that the lodgings in the High Street should be given up. Eleanor would not live in the deanery, she said, unless her father lived there also. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Arabin would not be dean, unless <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Harding would be co-dean with him. The archdeacon declared that his father-in-law should not have his own way in everything, and <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Grantly carried him off to Plumstead, that he might remain there till <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> and <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Arabin were in a state to receive him in their own mansion.</p>
+			<p>Nor can we pretend to describe the rapture with which <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Harding was received by his daughter. She wept with grief and wept with joy⁠—with grief that her father should, in his old age, still be without that rank and worldly position which, according to her ideas, he had so well earned; and with joy in that he, her darling father, should have bestowed on that other dear one the good things of which he himself would not open his hand to take possession. And here <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Harding again showed his weakness. In the melee of this exposal of their loves and reciprocal affection, he found himself unable to resist the entreaties of all parties that the lodgings in the High Street should be given up. Eleanor would not live in the deanery, she said, unless her father lived there also. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Arabin would not be dean, unless <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Harding would be co-dean with him. The archdeacon declared that his father-in-law should not have his own way in everything, and <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Grantly carried him off to Plumstead, that he might remain there till <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> and <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Arabin were in a state to receive him in their own mansion.</p>
 			<p>Pressed by such arguments as these, what could a weak old man do but yield?</p>
 			<p>But there was yet another task which it behoved <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Harding to do before he could allow himself to be at rest. Little has been said in these pages of the state of those remaining old men who had lived under his sway at the hospital. But not on this account must it be presumed that he had forgotten them, or that in their state of anarchy and in their want of due government he had omitted to visit them. He visited them constantly, and had latterly given them to understand that they would soon be required to subscribe their adherence to a new master. There were now but five of them, one of them having been but quite lately carried to his rest⁠—but five of the full number, which had hitherto been twelve, and which was now to be raised to twenty-four, including women. Of these, old Bunce, who for many years had been the favourite of the late warden, was one; and Abel Handy, who had been the humble means of driving that warden from his home, was another.</p>
 			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Harding now resolved that he himself would introduce the new warden to the hospital. He felt that many circumstances might conspire to make the men receive <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Quiverful with aversion and disrespect; he felt also that <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Quiverful might himself feel some qualms of conscience if he entered the hospital with an idea that he did so in hostility to his predecessor. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Harding therefore determined to walk in, arm in arm with <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Quiverful, and to ask from these men their respectful obedience to their new master.</p>