not wish, I think, to be insolent. It was Mrs. Proudie who told me to
my face that I was a--thief."

"May she be punished for the cruel word!" said Mrs. Crawley. "May the
remembrance that she has spoken it come, some day, heavily upon her
heart!"

"'Vengeance is mine. I will repay,' saith the Lord," answered Mr
Crawley. "We may safely leave all that alone, and rid our minds of
such wishes, if it be possible. It is well, I think, that violent
offences, when committed, should be met by instant rebuke. To turn
the other cheek instantly to the smiter can hardly be suitable in
these days, when the hands of so many are raised to strike. But the
return blow should be given only while the smart remains. She hurt
me then; but what is it to me now, that she called me a thief to my
face? Do I not know that, all the country round, men and woman are
calling me the same behind my back?"

"No, Josiah, you do not know that. They say the thing is very
strange,--so strange that it requires a trial; but no one thinks you
have taken that which was not your own."

"I think I did. I myself think I took that which was not my own. My
poor head suffers so;--so many grievous thoughts distract me, that
I am like a child, and know not what I do." As he spoke thus he put
both hands up to his head, leaning forward as though in anxious
thought,--as though he were striving to bring his mind to bear with
accuracy upon past events. "It could not have been mine, and yet--"
Then he sat silent, and made no effort to continue his speech.

"And yet?"--said his wife, encouraging him to proceed. If she could
only learn the real truth, she thought that she might perhaps yet
save him, with assistance from their friends.

"When I said that I had gotten it from that man I must have been
mad."

"From which man, love?"

"From the man Soames,--he who accuses me. And yet, as the Lord hears
me, I thought so then. The truth is, that there are times when I
am not--sane. I am not a thief,--not before God; but I am--mad at
times." These last words he spoke very slowly, in a whisper,--without
any excitement,--indeed with a composure which was horrible to
witness. And what he said was the more terrible because she was so
well convinced of the truth of his words. Of course he was no thief.
She wanted no one to tell her that. As he himself had expressed it,
he was no thief before God, however the money might have come into
his possession. That there were times whe