‘I may go in with him?’ said Mrs Crawley.

‘I’ll have a chair for you at the end of the table, just nigh to him,’ said Thompson.  ‘You can slip into it and say nothing to nobody.’  Then he left them and went away to the magistrates.

Mr Crawley had not spoken a word since he had entered the vehicle.  Nor had she said much to him, but had sat with him holding his hand in hers.  Now he spoke to her—­’Where is it that we are?’ he asked.

‘At Silverbridge, dearest.’

‘But what is this chamber?  And why are we here?’

’We are to wait here till the magistrates are ready.  They are in the next room.’

‘But this is the Inn?’

‘Yes dear, it is the Inn.’

‘And I see crowds of people about.’  There were crowds of people about.  There had been men in the yard, and others standing about on the stairs, and the public room was full of men who were curious to see the clergyman who had stolen twenty pounds, and to hear what would be the result of the case before the magistrates.  He must be committed; so, at least said everybody; but then there would be the question of bail.  Would the magistrates let him out on bail, and who would be the bailsmen?  ‘Why are the people here?’ said Mr Crawley.

‘I suppose it is a custom when the magistrates are sitting,’ said his wife.

‘They have come to see the degradation of a clergyman,’ said he;—­’and they will not be disappointed.’

‘Nothing can degrade but guilt,’ said his wife.

’Yes—­misfortune can degrade, and poverty.  A man is degraded when the cares of the world press so heavily upon him that he cannot rouse himself.  They have come to look at me as though I were a hunted beast.’

‘It is but their custom always on such days.’

‘They have not always had a clergyman before them as a criminal.’  Then he was silent for a while, while she was chafing his cold hands.  ’Would that I were dead, before they brought me to this!  Would that I were dead!’

‘Is it not right, dear, that we should bear all that He sends us?’

‘Would that I were dead!’ he repeated.  ’The load is too heavy for me to bear, and I would that I were dead.’

The time seemed very long before Thompson returned and asked them to accompany him into the big room.  When he did so, Mr Crawley grasped hold of the chair as though he had resolved that he would not go.

But his wife whispered a word to him, and he obeyed her.  ’He will follow me,’ she said to the policeman.  And in that way they went from the smaller room into the large one.  Thompson went first; Mrs Crawley with her veil down came next; and the wretched man followed his wife, with his eyes fixed upon the ground and his hands clasped together upon his breast.  He could at first have seen nothing, and could hardly have known where he was when they placed him in a chair.  She, with better courage, contrived to look round through her veil,