Now this was too much for Mr. Robarts. After all that he had heard of the visit paid by Mr. Crawley to the palace—of the venom displayed by Mrs. Proudie on that occasion, and of the absolute want of subordination to episcopal authority which Mr. Crawley himself was supposed to have shown—Mr. Robarts did feel it hard that his friend the archdeacon should be snubbed in this way because he was deficient in reverence for his bishop! “I thought, Crawley,” he said, “that you yourself were inclined to dispute orders coming to you from the palace. The world at least says as much concerning you.”
“What the world says of me I have learned to disregard very much, Mr. Robarts. But I hope that I shall never disobey the authority of the Church when properly and legally exercised.”
“I hope with all my heart you never will; nor I either. And the archdeacon, who knows, to the breadth of a hair, what a bishop ought to do and what he ought not, and what he may do and what he may not, will, I should say, be the last man in England to sin in that way.”
“Very probably. I am far from contradicting you there. Pray understand, Mr. Robarts, that I bring no accusation against the archdeacon. Why should I?”
“I didn’t mean to discuss him at all.”
“Nor did I, Mr. Robarts.”
“I only mentioned his name, because, as I said, he was over with us the other day at Framley, and we were all talking about your affair.”
“My affair!” said Mr. Crawley. And then came a frown upon his brow, and a gleam of fire into his eyes, which effectually banished that look of extreme humility which he had assumed. “And may I ask why the archdeacon was discussing—my affair?”
“Simply from the kindness which he bears to you.”
“I am grateful for the archdeacon’s kindness, as a man is bound to be for any kindness, whether displayed wisely or unwisely. But it seems to me that my affair, as you call it, Mr. Robarts, is of that nature that they who wish well to me will better further their wishes by silence than by any discussion.”
“Then I cannot agree with you.” Mr. Crawley shrugged his shoulders, opened his hands a little and then closed them, and bowed his head. He could not have declared more clearly by any words that he differed altogether from Mr. Robarts, and that as the subject was one so peculiarly his own he had a right to expect that his opinion should be allowed to prevail against that of any other person. “If you come to that, you know, how is anybody’s tongue to be stopped?”
“That vain tongues cannot be stopped, I am well aware. I do not expect that people’s tongues should be stopped. I am not saying what men will do, but what good wishes should dictate.”
“Well, perhaps you’ll hear me out for a minute.” Mr. Crawley again bowed his head. “Whether we were wise or unwise, we were discussing this affair.”
“Whether I stole Mr. Soames’s money?”
“No; nobody supposed for a moment you had stolen it.”
“I cannot understand how they should suppose anything else, knowing, as they do, that the magistrates have committed me for the theft. This took place at Framley, you say, and probably in Lord Lufton’s presence.”
“Exactly.”
“And Lord Lufton was chairman at the sitting of the magistrates at which I was committed. How can it be that he should think otherwise?”
“I am sure he has not an idea that you were guilty. Nor yet has Dr. Thorne, who was also one of the magistrates. I don’t suppose one of them then thought so.”
“Then their action, to say the least of it, was very strange.”
“It was all because you had nobody to manage it for you. I thoroughly believe that if you had placed the matter in the hands of a good lawyer, you would never have heard a word more about it. That seems to be the opinion of everybody I speak to on the subject.”
“Then in this country a man is to be punished or not, according to his ability to fee a lawyer!”
“I am not talking about punishment.”
“And presuming an innocent man to have the ability and not the will to do so, he is to be punished, to be ruined root and branch, self and family, character and pocket, simply because, knowing his own innocence, he does not choose to depend on the mercenary skill of a man whose trade he abhors for the establishment of that which should be clear as the sun at noonday! You say I am innocent, and yet you tell me I am to be condemned as a guilty man, have my gown taken from me, be torn from my wife and children, be disgraced before the eyes of all men, and be made a byword and a thing horrible to be mentioned, because I will not fee an attorney to fee another man to come and lie on my behalf, to browbeat witnesses, to make false appeals, and perhaps shed false tears in defending me. You have come to me asking me to do this, if I understand you, telling me that the archdeacon would so advise me.”
“That is my object.” Mr. Crawley, as he had spoken, had in his vehemence risen from his seat, and Mr. Robarts was also standing.
“Then tell the archdeacon,” said Mr. Crawley, “that I will have none of his advice. I will have no one there paid by me to obstruct the course of justice or to hoodwink a jury. I have been in courts of law, and know what is the work for which these gentlemen are hired. I will
