The Last Chronicle of Barset

law, Mark Robarts, the clergyman. Lord Lufton was driving a dog-cart, and went along the road at the rate of twelve miles an hour. "I'll

to think about it,"

otested so vehemently that he di

he room all

believe him whe

think

body, and Fothergill, who always suspects everybody. The truth is, that he

ly that would amou

dent. Somebody has picked it up, and in some way the cheque has got into Crawley's hand. Then he has locked it up and has forgotten all about it; and when that butcher threatened him, he has put his

judge of him as i

ld have somebody up out of the parish to show that he is beside himself half h

l he would only escape b

he is

n him in such a case as that

ply unfrock him, and take away his living altogether. Nothing o

have comm

a juryman is. I'd eat the biggest pair of boots in Barchester before I found him guilty. I say, Mark, you must talk it over with the w

worthily the clerical war against the bishop which had raged in Barsetshire ever since Dr. Proudie had come there,-which war old Lady Lufton, good and pious and charitable as she was, considered that she was bound to keep up, even to the knife, till Dr. Proudie and all his satellites should have been banished into outer darkness. As the light of the Proudies still shone brightly, it was probable that poor old Lady Lufton might die before her battle was accomplished. She often said that it would be so, but when so saying, always expressed a wish that the fight mi

hich was not altogether to the taste of Lord Lufton, and as to which he would make complaint to his wife, and to Mark Robarts, himself a cl

slike. It's a great thing havi

e and mother said was true. And if they could have their way, it never would be finished. And so, in order that Lord Lufton might not be actually driven away by the turmoils of ecclesiastical contest, the younger Lady Lufton would endeavour to moderate both the wrath and the zeal of the elder one, and would struggle against the coming clergymen.

scribe his ten-pound note without

c, you do put i

e not paid five thousand a year for your trouble, it is rather hard that

t the feeling at the palace was inimical to Mr. Crawley. "That she-Beelzebub hates him for his poverty, and because Arabin brought him into the diocese," said the archdeacon, permitting himself to use very strong language in his allusion to the bishop's wife. It must be recorded on his beha

horne, laughing, "that the she-Beelz

nd if she complains of the name I'll unsay it." It may therefore be supposed that Dr. Thorne, and Mrs. Tho

h twelve hundred a year. Mrs. Proudie, almost as energetic in her language as the archdeacon, had called him a beggarly perpetual curate. "We must have perpetual curates, my dear," the bishop had said. "They should know their places then. But what can you expect of a creature from the deanery? All that ought to be altered. The dean should have no patronage in the diocese. No dean should have any patronage. It is an abuse from the beginning to the end. Dean Arabin,

had reckoned them among the neighbouring clerical families of her acquaintance. Both these ladies were therefore staunch in their defence of Mr. Crawley. The archdeacon himself had his own reasons,-reasons which for the present he kept altogether within his own bosom,-for wishing that Mr. Crawley had never entered

oom when the gentlemen came in from their wine. The ladies understood at once what it was that he couldn't b

Lufton, and my husband, and the other wiseacre

to do so by the lawy

magistrates must act in accordanc

he's not guilty,"

hey only hear the primary evidence. In this case I don't believe Crawley would ever

ake him have an attorn

d could have spoken for him better than

fe. "What can we do for him? Can't we pa

find him guilty,"

th of it?" asked the

Lufton. Had they come to the conclusion that such an appropriation of money had been made by one of the clergy of the palace, by one of the Proudeian party, they would doubtless have been very loud and very bitter as to the iniquity of the offender. They would have said much as to the weakness of the bishop and the wickedness of the bishop's wife, and would h

rchdeacon, "they will be all right. There's not a tradesman

wife, cautioning him

unt on every leg of mutton," said the archdeacon. Arguing from which fact,-or from which

of importance to his calling, or to his own professional status. He had pleaded his own cause before the magistrates, and it might be that he would insist on doing the same thing before the judge. At last Mr. Robarts, the clergyman of Framley, was deputed from the knot of Crawleian advocates assembled in Lady Lufton's drawing-room, to undertake the duty of seeing Mr. Crawley, and of explaining to him that his proper defence was regarded as a matter appertaining to the clerg