The Last Chronicle of Barset. Anthony Trollope

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СКАЧАТЬ course he is innocent, and you must feel for him.”

      “Yes, I feel for him, and for you too, ma’am.”

      “That is all I meant. He knows his own innocence, and therefore he is unwilling to give way in anything.”

      “Of course he knows hisself, that’s certain. But he’d better come in the carriage, if only because of the dirt and slush.”

      “He will go in the carriage; and I will go with him. There will be room there for you, sir.”

      Thompson looked up at the rain, and told himself that it was very cold. Then he remembered Mr. Walker’s injunction, and bethought himself that Mrs. Crawley, in spite of her poverty, was a lady. He conceived even unconsciously the idea that something was due to her because of her poverty. “I’ll go with the driver,” said he, “but he’ll only give hisself a deal of trouble if he attempts to get out.”

      “He won’t; he won’t,” said Mrs. Crawley. “And I thank you with all my heart.”

      “Come along, then,” said Thompson.

      She went up to her husband, hat in hand, and looking round to see that she was not watched, put the hat on his head, and then lifted him as it were from his chair. He did not refuse to be led, and allowed her to throw round his shoulders the old cloak which was hanging in the passage, and then he passed out, and was the first to seat himself in the Silverbridge fly. His wife followed him, and did not hear the blandishments with which Thompson instructed his myrmidon to follow through the mud on foot. Slowly they made their way through the lanes, and it was nearly twelve when the fly was driven into the yard of the “George and Vulture” at Silverbridge.

      Silverbridge, though it was blessed with a mayor and corporation, and was blessed also with a Member of Parliament all to itself, was not blessed with any court-house. The magistrates were therefore compelled to sit in the big room at the “George and Vulture,” in which the county balls were celebrated, and the meeting of the West Barsetshire freemasons was held. That part of the country was, no doubt, very much ashamed of its backwardness in this respect, but as yet nothing had been done to remedy the evil. Thompson and his fly were therefore driven into the yard of the Inn, and Mr. and Mrs. Crawley were ushered by him up into a little bed-chamber close adjoining to the big room in which the magistrates were already assembled. “There’s a bit of fire here,” said Thompson, “and you can make yourselves a little warm.” He himself was shivering with the cold. “When the gents is ready in there, I’ll just come and fetch you.”

      “I may go in with him?” said Mrs. Crawley.

      “I’ll have a chair for you at the end of the table, just nigh to him,” said Thompson. “You can slip into it and say nothing to nobody.” Then he left them and went away to the magistrates.

      Mr. Crawley had not spoken a word since he had entered the vehicle. Nor had she said much to him, but had sat with him holding his hand in hers. Now he spoke to her,—“Where is it that we are?” he asked.

      “At Silverbridge, dearest.”

      “But what is this chamber? And why are we here?”

      “We are to wait here till the magistrates are ready. They are in the next room.”

      “But this is the Inn?”

      “Yes, dear, it is the Inn.”

      “And I see crowds of people about.” There were crowds of people about. There had been men in the yard, and others standing about on the stairs, and the public room was full of men who were curious to see the clergyman who had stolen twenty pounds, and to hear what would be the result of the case before the magistrates. He must be committed; so, at least said everybody; but then there would be the question of bail. Would the magistrates let him out on bail, and who would be the bailsmen? “Why are the people here?” said Mr. Crawley.

      “I suppose it is the custom when the magistrates are sitting,” said his wife.

      “They have come to see the degradation of a clergyman,” said he;—“and they will not be disappointed.”

      “Nothing can degrade but guilt,” said his wife.

      “Yes,—misfortune can degrade, and poverty. A man is degraded when the cares of the world press so heavily upon him that he cannot rouse himself. They have come to look at me as though I were a hunted beast.”

      “It is but their custom always on such days.”

      “They have not always a clergyman before them as a criminal.” Then he was silent for a while, while she was chafing his cold hands. “Would that I were dead, before they had brought me to this! Would that I were dead!”

      “Is it not right, dear, that we should all bear what He sends us?”

      “Would that I were dead!” he repeated. “The load is too heavy for me to bear, and I would that I were dead!”

      The time seemed to be very long before Thompson returned and asked them to accompany him into the big room. When he did so, Mr. Crawley grasped hold of his chair as though he had resolved that he would not go. But his wife whispered a word to him, and he obeyed her. “He will follow me,” she said to the policeman. And in that way they went from the small room into the large one. Thompson went first; Mrs. Crawley with her veil down came next; and the wretched man followed his wife, with his eyes fixed upon the ground and his hands clasped together upon his breast. He could at first have seen nothing, and could hardly have known where he was when they placed him in a chair. She, with a better courage, contrived to look round through her veil, and saw that there was a long board or table covered with green cloth, and that six or seven gentlemen were sitting at one end of it, while there seemed to be a crowd standing along the sides and about the room. Her husband was seated at the other end of the table, near the corner, and round the corner,—so that she might be close to him,—her chair had been placed. On the other side of him there was another chair, now empty, intended for any professional gentleman whom he might choose to employ.

      There were five magistrates sitting there. Lord Lufton, from Framley, was in the chair;—a handsome man, still young, who was very popular in the county. The cheque which had been cashed had borne his signature, and he had consequently expressed his intention of not sitting at the board; but Mr. Walker, desirous of having him there, had overruled him, showing him that the loss was not his loss. The cheque, if stolen, had not been stolen from him. He was not the prosecutor. “No, by Jove,” said Lord Lufton, “if I could quash the whole thing, I’d do it at once!”

      “You can’t do that, my lord, but you may help us at the board,” said Mr. Walker.

      Then there was the Hon. George De Courcy, Lord De Courcy’s brother, from Castle Courcy. Lord De Courcy did not live in the county, but his brother did so, and endeavoured to maintain the glory of the family by the discretion of his conduct. He was not, perhaps, among the wisest of men, but he did very well as a country magistrate, holding his tongue, keeping his eyes open, and, on such occasions as this, obeying Mr. Walker in all things. Dr. Tempest was also there, the rector of the parish, he being both magistrate and clergyman. There were many in Silverbridge who declared that Dr. Tempest would have done far better to stay away when a brother clergyman was thus to be brought before the bench; but it had been long since Dr. Tempest had cared what was said about him in Silverbridge. He had become so accustomed to the life he led as to like to be disliked, and to be enamoured of unpopularity. So when Mr. Walker had ventured to suggest to him that, perhaps, he might СКАЧАТЬ