persons he might meet.  And his head was somewhat bowed, though his great, bald, broad forehead showed itself so prominent, that neither the bishop nor Mrs Proudie could drop it from their sight during the whole interview.  He was a man who when seen could hardly be forgotten.  The deep angry remonstrant eyes, the shaggy eyebrows, telling tales of frequent anger—­of anger frequent but generally silent—­the repressed indignation of the habitual frown, the long nose and large powerful mouth, the deep furrows on the cheek, and the general look of thought and suffering, all combined to make the appearance of the man remarkable, and to describe to the beholders at once his true character.  No one ever on seeing Mr Crawley took him to be a happy man, or a weak man, or an ignorant man, or a wise man.

‘You are very punctual, Mr Crawley,’ said the bishop.  Mr Crawley simply bowed his head, still keeping his hands beneath his cloak.  ’Will you not take a chair nearer to the fire?’ Mr Crawley had not seated himself, but had placed himself in front of a chair at the extreme end of the room—­resolved that he would not use it unless he were duly asked.

‘Thank you, my lord,’ he said.  ’I am warm with walking, and if you please, will avoid the fire.’

‘You have not walked, Mr Crawley?’

‘Yes, my lord; I have been walking.’

‘Not from Hogglestock!’

Now this was a matter which Mr Crawley certainly did not mean to discuss with the bishop.  It might be well for the bishop to demand his presence in the palace, but it could be no part of the bishop’s duty to inquire how he got there.  ‘That, my lord, is a matter of no moment,’ said he.  ’I am glad at any rate that I have been enable to obey your lordship’s order in coming hither on this morning.’

Hitherto Mrs Proudie had not said a word.  She stood back in the room, near the fire—­more backward a good deal than she was accustomed to do when clergymen made their ordinary visits.  On such occasions she would come forward and shake hands with them graciously—­graciously, even if proudly; but she had felt that she must do nothing of that kind now; there must be no shaking hands with a man who had stolen a cheque for twenty pounds!  It might probably be necessary to keep Mr Crawley at a distance, and therefore she had remained in the background.  But Mr Crawley seemed disposed to keep himself in the background, and therefore she could speak.  ‘I hope your wife and children are well, Mr Crawley’ she said.

’Thank you, madam, my children are quite well, and Mrs Crawley suffers no special ailment at present.’

‘That is much to be thankful for, Mr Crawley.’  Whether he were or were not thankful for such mercies as these was no business of the bishop or of the bishop’s wife.  That was between him and his God.  So he would not even bow to this civility, but sat with his head erect, and with a great frown on his heavy brow.