He dwelt, also, at great length on the stamp on the envelope, but contrived at last to leave a feeling on the minds of those who heard him, that Sir John had shown the weakness of his case by trusting so much to such allegations as he had made.  ‘It has been represented,’ said Judge Bramber, ’that the impression which you have seen of the Sydney post-office stamp has been fraudulently obtained.  Some stronger evidence should, I think, be shown of this before you believe it.  Two clerks from the London post-office have told you that they believed the impression to be a false one; but I think they were hardly justified in their opinion.  They founded it on the clearness and cleanness of the impression; but they both of them acknowledged afterwards that such clearness and cleanness is simply unusual, and by no means impossible,—­not indeed improbable.  But how would it have been if the envelope had been brought to you without any post-office impression, simply directed to Mrs. Caldigate, by the man who is alleged to have made the woman his wife shortly before the envelope was written?  Would it not in that case have been strong evidence?  If any fraud were proved,—­such a fraud as would be that of getting some post-office official falsely to stamp the envelope,—­then the stain of perjury would be there.  But it will be for you to consider whether you can find such stain of perjury merely because the impression on the envelope is clear and clean.’

When he came to the present condition of Caldigate’s wife and child at Folking, he was very tender in his speech,—­but even his tenderness seemed to turn itself against the accused.

’Of that poor lady I can only speak with that unfeigned respect which I am sure you all feel.  That she was happy in her marriage till this accusation reached her ears, no one can doubt.  That he to whom she was given in marriage has done his duty by her, treating her with full affection and confidence, has been proved to us.  Who can think that such a condition of things shall be disturbed, that happiness so perfect is to be turned to misery and misfortune, without almost an agony of regret?  But not on that account can you be in any way released from your duty.  In this case you are not entitled to think of the happiness or unhappiness of individuals.  You have to confine yourself to the evidence, and must give your verdict in accordance with that.’

John Caldigate, as he heard the words, told himself at once that the judge had, in fact, desired the jury to find a verdict against him.  Not a single point had been made in his favour, and every point had been made to tell against him.  The judge had almost said that a man’s promise to marry a woman should be taken as evidence of marriage.  But the jury, at any rate, did not show immediate alacrity in obeying the judge’s behest.  They returned once or twice to ask questions; and at three o’clock Caldigate was allowed to go to his inn, with an intimation that he must hold himself in readiness to be brought back and hear the verdict at a moment’s notice.  ‘I wish they would declare it at once,’ he said to his father.  ‘The suspense is worse than all.’