‘There is nothing against the girl’s character,’ said Mrs Grantly, ’and the father and mother are gentlefolk by birth; but such a marriage for Henry would be unseemly.’

‘To make it worse, there is a terrible story about him,’ said the archdeacon.

‘I don’t suppose there is much in that,’ said Mrs Grantly.

’I can’t say.  There is no knowing.  They told me today in Barchester that Soames is pressing a case against him.’

‘Who is Soames, papa?’ asked the marchioness.

‘He is Lord Lufton’s man of business, my dear.’

‘Oh, Lord Lufton’s man of business!’ There was something of a sneer in the tone of the lady’s voice as she mentioned Lord Lufton’s name.

‘I am told,’ continued the archdeacon, ’that Soames declares the cheque was taken from a pocket-book which he left by accident in Crawley’s house.’

’You don’t mean to say, archdeacon, that you think that Mr Crawley—­a clergyman—­stole it!’ said Mrs Grantly.

’I don’t say anything of the kind, my dear.  But supposing Mr Crawley to be as honest as the sun, you wouldn’t wish Henry to marry his daughter.’

‘Certainly not,’ said the mother.  ’It would be an unfitting marriage.  The poor girl has no advantages.’

’He is not able to pay the baker’s bill.  I always though Arabin was very wrong to place such a man in such a parish as Hogglestock.  Of course the family could not live there.’  The Arabin here spoken of was Dr Arabin, dean of Barchester.  The dean and archdeacon had married sisters, and there was much intimacy between the families.

‘After all it is only rumour, as yet,’ said Mrs Grantly.

‘Fothergill told me only yesterday, that he sees her almost every day,’ said the father.  ’What are we to do, Griselda?  You know how headstrong Henry is.’  The marchioness sat quite still; looking at the fire, and made no immediate answer to this address.

‘There is nothing for it but that you should tell him what you think,’ said the mother.

‘If his sister were to speak to him, it might do much,’ said the archdeacon.  To this Mrs Grantly said nothing; but Mrs Grantly’s daughter understood very well that her mother’s confidence in her was not equal to her father’s.  Lady Hartletop said nothing, but still sat, with impassive face, and eyes fixed upon the fire.  ’I think that if you were to speak to him, Griselda, and tell him that he would disgrace his family, he would be ashamed to go on with such a marriage,’ said the father.  ‘He would feel, connected as he is with Lord Hartletop—­’

‘I don’t think he would feel anything about that,’ said Mrs Grantly.

‘I daresay not,’ said Lady Hartletop.

‘I am sure he ought to feel it,’ said the father.  They were all silent, and sat looking at the fire.

‘I suppose, papa, you allow Henry an income,’ said Lady Hartletop, after a while.

‘Indeed I do—­eight hundred a year.’