The Last Chronicle of Barset. Anthony Trollope

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СКАЧАТЬ reverences a clergyman, as a clergyman, so slightly as a brother clergyman. To Dr. Tempest it appeared to be neither very strange nor very terrible that Mr. Crawley should have stolen twenty pounds. “What is a man to do,” he said, “when he sees his children starving? He should not have married on such a preferment as that.” Mr. Crawley had married, however, long before he got the living of Hogglestock.

      There were two Lady Luftons,—mother-in-law and daughter-in-law,—who at this time were living together at Framley Hall, Lord Lufton’s seat in the county of Barset, and they were both thoroughly convinced of Mr. Crawley’s innocence. The elder lady had lived much among clergymen, and could hardly, I think, by any means have been brought to believe in the guilt of any man who had taken upon himself the orders of the Church of England. She had also known Mr. Crawley personally for some years, and was one of those who could not admit to herself that any one was vile who had been near to herself. She believed intensely in the wickedness of the outside world, of the world which was far away from herself, and of which she never saw anything; but they who were near to her, and who had even become dear to her, or who even had been respected by her, were made, as it were, saints in her imagination. They were brought into the inner circle, and could hardly be expelled. She was an old woman who thought all evil of those she did not know, and all good of those whom she did know; and as she did know Mr. Crawley, she was quite sure he had not stolen Mr. Soames’s twenty pounds. She did know Mr. Soames also; and thus there was a mystery for the unravelling of which she was very anxious. And the young Lady Lufton was equally sure, and perhaps with better reason for such certainty. She had, in truth, known more of Mr. Crawley personally, than had any one in the county, unless it was the dean. The younger Lady Lufton, the present Lord Lufton’s wife, had sojourned at one time in Mr. Crawley’s house, amidst the Crawley poverty, living as they lived, and nursing Mrs. Crawley through an illness which had well nigh been fatal to her; and the younger Lady Lufton believed in Mr. Crawley,—as Mr. Crawley also believed in her.

      “It is quite impossible, my dear,” the old woman said to her daughter-in-law.

      “Quite impossible, my lady.” The dowager was always called “my lady,” both by her own daughter and by her son’s wife, except in the presence of their children, when she was addressed as “grandmamma.” “Think how well I knew him. It’s no use talking of evidence. No evidence would make me believe it.”

      “Nor me; and I think it a great shame that such a report should be spread about.”

      “I suppose Mr. Soames could not help himself?” said the younger lady, who was not herself very fond of Mr. Soames.

      “Ludovic says that he has only done what he was obliged to do.” The Ludovic spoken of was Lord Lufton.

      This took place in the morning, but in the evening the affair was again discussed at Framley Hall. Indeed, for some days, there was hardly any other subject held to be worthy of discussion in the county. Mr. Robarts, the clergyman of the parish and the brother of the younger Lady Lufton, was dining at the hall with his wife, and the three ladies had together expressed their perfect conviction of the falseness of the accusation. But when Lord Lufton and Mr. Robarts were together after the ladies had left them there was much less of this certainty expressed. “By Jove,” said Lord Lufton, “I don’t know what to think of it. I wish with all my heart that Soames had said nothing about it, and that the cheque had passed without remark.”

      “That was impossible. When the banker sent to Soames, he was obliged to take the matter up.”

      “Of course he was. But I’m sorry that it was so. For the life of me I can’t conceive how the cheque got into Crawley’s hands.”

      “I imagine that it had been lying in the house, and that Crawley had come to think that it was his own.”

      “But, my dear Mark,” said Lord Lufton, “excuse me if I say that that’s nonsense. What do we do when a poor man has come to think that another man’s property is his own? We send him to prison for making the mistake.”

      “I hope they won’t send Crawley to prison.”

      “I hope so too; but what is a jury to do?”

      “You think it will go to a jury, then?”

      “I do,” said Lord Lufton. “I don’t see how the magistrates can save themselves from committing him. It is one of those cases in which every one concerned would wish to drop it if it were only possible. But it is not possible. On the evidence, as one sees it at present, one is bound to say that it is a case for a jury.”

      “I believe that he is mad,” said the brother parson.

      “He always was, as far as I could learn,” said the lord. “I never knew him, myself. You do, I think?”

      “Oh, yes. I know him.” And the vicar of Framley became silent and thoughtful as the memory of a certain interview between himself and Mr. Crawley came back upon his mind. At that time the waters had nearly closed over his head and Mr. Crawley had given him some assistance. When the gentlemen had again found the ladies, they kept their own doubts to themselves; for at Framley Hall, as at present tenanted, female voices and female influences predominated over those which came from the other sex.

      At Barchester, the cathedral city of the county in which the Crawleys lived, opinion was violently against Mr. Crawley. In the city Mrs. Proudie, the wife of the bishop, was the leader of opinion in general, and she was very strong in her belief of the man’s guilt. She had known much of clergymen all her life, as it behoved a bishop’s wife to do, and she had none of that mingled weakness and ignorance which taught so many ladies in Barsetshire to suppose that an ordained clergyman could not become a thief. She hated old Lady Lufton with all her heart, and old Lady Lufton hated her as warmly. Mrs. Proudie would say frequently that Lady Lufton was a conceited old idiot, and Lady Lufton would declare as frequently that Mrs. Proudie was a vulgar virago. It was known at the palace in Barchester, that kindness had been shown to the Crawleys by the family at Framley Hall, and this alone would have been sufficient to make Mrs. Proudie believe that Mr. Crawley could have been guilty of any crime. And as Mrs. Proudie believed, so did the bishop believe. “It is a terrible disgrace to the diocese,” said the bishop, shaking his head, and patting his apron as he sat by his study fire.

      “Fiddlestick!” said Mrs. Proudie.

      “But, my dear,—a beneficed clergyman!”

      “You must get rid of him; that’s all. You must be firm whether he be acquitted or convicted.”

      “But if he be acquitted, I cannot get rid of him, my dear.”

      “Yes, you can, if you are firm. And you must be firm. Is it not true that he has been disgracefully involved in debt ever since he has been there; that you have been pestered by letters from unfortunate tradesmen who cannot get their money from him?”

      “That is true, my dear, certainly.”

      “And is that kind of thing to go on? He cannot come to the palace as all clergymen should do, because he has got no clothes to come in. I saw him once about the lanes, and I never set my eyes on such an object in my life! I would not believe that the man was a clergyman till John told me. He is a disgrace to the diocese, and he must be got rid of. I feel sure of his guilt, and I hope he will be convicted. One is bound to hope that a guilty man should be convicted. But if he escape conviction, you must sequestrate the living because of the debts. The income is enough to get an excellent curate. It would just do for Thumble.” To all of which the bishop made no further reply, but simply nodded his head and patted his apron. He knew that he could not do exactly what his wife required of him; СКАЧАТЬ