Mrs Crawley rose and came close to him.  ’You may take my word for it he will not stir.  You may indeed.  He thinks it incumbent on him not to give any undertaking himself, because he feels himself so harshly used.’

‘I don’t know about harshness,’ said Thompson, brindling up.  ’A close carriage brought and—­’

‘I will walk.  If I am to go, I will walk,’ shouted Mr Crawley.

‘I did not allude to you—­or to Mr Walker,’ said the poor wife.  ’I know you have been most kind.  I meant the harshness of the circumstances.  Of course he is innocent, and you must feel for him.’

‘Yes, I feel for him, and for you too, ma’am.’

’That is all I meant.  He knows his own innocence, and therefore he is unwilling to give way in anything.’

’Of course he knows hisself, that’s certain.  But he’d better come in the carriage, if only because of the dirt and slush.’

’He will go in the carriage; and I will go with him.  There will be room for you there, sir.’

Thompson looked up at the rain, and told himself that it was very cold.  Then he remembered Mr Walker’s injunction, and bethought himself that Mrs Crawley, in spite of her poverty, was a lady.  He conceived even unconsciously the idea that something was due to her because of her poverty.  ‘I’ll go with the driver,’ said he, ’but he’ll only give hisself a deal of trouble if he tries to get out.’

‘He won’t; he won’t,’ said Mrs Crawley.  ’And I thank you with all my heart.’

‘Come along, then,’ said Thompson.

She went up to her husband, hat in hand, and looking round to see that she was not watched put the hat on his head, and then lifted him as it were from the chair.  He did not refuse to be led, and allowed her to throw round his shoulders the old cloak which was hanging in the passage, and then he passed out, and was the first to seat himself in the Silverbridge fly.  His wife followed him, and did not hear the blandishments with which Thompson instructed his myrmidon to follow through the mud on foot.  Slowly they made their way through the lanes, and it was nearly twelve when the fly was driven through the yard of the “George and Vulture” at Silverbridge.

Silverbridge, though it was blessed with a mayor and corporation, and was blessed also with a Member of Parliament all to itself, was not blessed with a courthouse.  The magistrates were therefore compelled to sit in the big room at the “George and Vulture” in which the county balls were celebrated, and the meeting of the West Barsetshire freemasons was held.  That part of the country was, no doubt, very much ashamed of its backwardness in this respect, but as yet nothing had been done to remedy the evil.  Thompson and his fly were therefore driven into the yard of the inn, and Mr and Mrs Crawley were ushered by him up into a little bed-chamber close adjoining to the big room in which the magistrates were already assembled.  ‘There’s a bit of a fire here,’ said Thompson, ‘and you can make yourselves a little warm.’  He himself was shivering with the cold.  ’When the gents is ready in there, I’ll just come and fetch you.’