y a lawyer."

"But, surely, if he were convinced that it was absolutely necessary
for the vindication of his innocence, he would submit to charge
himself with an expense so necessary, not only for himself, but for
his family?"

"He will say it ought not to be necessary. You know, Mr. Robarts, that
in some respects he is not like other men. You will not let what I
say of him set you against him?"

"Indeed, no."

"It is most kind of you to make the attempt. He will be here
directly, and when he comes I will leave you together."

While she was yet speaking his step was heard along the gravel-path,
and he hurried into the room with quick steps. "I crave your pardon,
Mr. Robarts," he said, "that I should keep you waiting." now Robarts
had not been there ten minutes, and any such asking of pardon was
hardly necessary. And, even in his own house, Mr. Crawley affected
a mock humility, as though, either through his own debasement, or
because of the superior station of the other clergyman, he were not
entitled to put himself on an equal footing with his visitor. He
would not have shaken hands with Mr. Robarts,--intending to indicate
that he did not presume to do so while the present accusation was
hanging over him,--had not the action been forced upon him. And
then there was something of a protest in his manner, as though
remonstrating against a thing that was unbecoming to him. Mr. Robarts,
without analysing it, understood it all, and knew that behind
the humility there was a crushing pride,--a pride which, in all
probability, would rise up and crush him before he could get himself
out of the room again. It was, perhaps, after all, a question whether
the man was not served rightly by the extremities to which he was
reduced. There was something radically wrong within him, which had
put him into antagonism with all the world, and which produced these
never-dying grievances. There were many clergymen in the country with
incomes as small as that which had fallen to the lot of Mr. Crawley,
but they managed to get on without displaying their sores as Mr
Crawley displayed his. They did not wear their old rusty cloaks with
all that ostentatious bitterness of poverty which seemed to belong
to that garment when displayed on Mr. Crawley's shoulders. Such,
for a moment, were Mr. Robarts' thoughts, and he almost repented
himself of his present mission. But then he thought of Mrs. Crawley,
and remembering that her sufferings were at an