‘But, Lufton, surely that would amount to stealing it?’

’Yes, if it wasn’t that he is such a poor, cracked, crazy creature, with his mind all abroad.  I think Soames did drop his book in his house.  I’m sure Soames would not say so unless he was quite confident.  Somebody has picked it up, and in some way the cheque has got into Crawley’s hand.  Then he has locked it up and forgotten all about it; and when that butcher threatened him, he has put his hand upon it, and he thought, or believed, that it had come from Soames or the dean or from heaven, if you will.  When a man is so crazy as that, you can’t judge of him as you do of others.’

‘But a jury must judge him as it would of others.’

’And therefore there should be a lawyer to tell the jury what to do.  They should have somebody up out of the parish to show that he is beside himself half the time.  His wife would be the best person, only it would be hard lines on her.’

’Very hard.  And after all he would only escape by being shown to be mad.’

‘And he is mad.’

’Mrs Proudie would come upon him in such a case as that, and sequester his living.’

’And what will Mrs Proudie do when he’s a convicted thief?  Simply unfrock him, and take away his living altogether.  Nothing on earth should induce me to find him guilty if I were on a jury.’

‘But you have committed him.’

’Yes—­I’ve been one, at least, in doing so.  I simply did that which Walker told us we must do.  A magistrate is not left to himself as a juryman is.  I’d eat the biggest pair of boots in Barchester before I found him guilty.  I say, Mark, you must talk it over with the women, and see what can be done for them.  Lucy tells me that they’re so poor, that if they have bread to eat, it’s as much as they have.’

On this evening Archdeacon Grantly and his wife dined and slept at Framley Court, there having been a very long family friendship between old Lady Lufton and the Grantlys, and Dr Thorne with his wife, from Chaldicotes, also dined at Framley.  There was also there another clergyman from Barchester, one Mr Champion, one of the prebends of the cathedral.  There were only three now who had houses in the city since the retrenchments of the ecclesiastical commission had come into full force.  And this Mr Champion was dear to the Dowager Lady Lufton, because he carried on worthily the clerical war against the bishop which had raged in Barchester ever since Dr Proudie had come there—­which war old Lady Lufton, good and pious and charitable as she was, considered that she was bound to keep up, even to the knife, till Dr Proudie and all his satellites should have been banished into the outer darkness.  As the light of the Proudies still shone brightly, it was probable that poor old Lady Lufton might die before her battle was accomplished.  She often said that it would be so, but when so saying, always expressed a wish that is might be carried on