t, Lady Lufton."

"But I say there is, Fanny. Very strange, indeed! 'Put off his
defence!' Why should a man need any defence to his wife if he acts in
a straightforward way? His own language condemns him: 'Wrong to stand
out!' Now, will either of you tell me that Mr. Robarts would really
have thought it wrong to refuse that invitation? I say that that is
hypocrisy. There is no other word for it." By this time the poor
wife, who had been in tears, was wiping them away and preparing for
action. Lady Lufton's extreme severity gave her courage. She knew
that it behoved her to fight for her husband when he was thus
attacked. Had Lady Lufton been moderate in her remarks Mrs. Robarts
would not have had a word to say.

"My husband may have been ill-judged," she said, "but he is no
hypocrite."

"Very well, my dear, I dare say you know better than I; but to me it
looks extremely like hypocrisy; eh, Justinia?

"Oh, mamma, do be moderate."

"Moderate! That's all very well. How is one to moderate one's
feelings when one has been betrayed?"

"You do not mean that Mr. Robarts has betrayed you?" said the wife.

"Oh, no; of course not." And then she went on reading the letter:
"'Seem to have been standing in judgement upon the duke.' Might he
not use the same argument as to going into any house in the kingdom,
however infamous? We must all stand in judgement one upon another in
that sense. 'Crawley!' Yes; if he were a little more like Mr. Crawley
it would be a good thing for me, and for the parish, and for you too,
my dear. God forgive me for bringing him here; that's all."

"Lady Lufton, I must say that you are very hard upon him--very hard.
I did not expect it from such a friend."

"My dear, you ought to know me well enough to be sure that I shall
speak my mind. 'Written to Jones'--yes; it is easy enough to write to
poor Jones. He had better write to Jones, and bid him do the whole
duty. Then he can go and be the duke's domestic chaplain."

"I believe my husband does as much of his own duty as any clergyman
in the whole diocese," said Mrs. Robarts, now again in tears.

"And you are to take his work in the school; you and Mrs. Podgens.
What with his curate and his wife and Mrs. Podgens, I don't see why
he should come back at all."

"Oh, mamma," said Justinia, "pray, pray don't be so harsh to her."

"Let me finish it, my dear;--oh, here I come. 'Tell her ladyship my
whereabouts.' He little thought you'd show me this lett