The Last Chronicle of Barset by Anthony Trollope

there.’
    â€˜But you will go?’
    â€˜What do I care for the parish? What matters it who sees me now? I cannot be degraded worse than I am. Everybody knows it.’
    â€˜There is no disgrace without guilt,’ said his wife.
    â€˜Everybody thinks me guilty. I see it in their eyes. The children know of it, and I hear their whispers in the school, ‘‘Mr Crawley has taken some money.’’ I heard the girl say it myself.’
    â€˜What matters what the girl says?’
    â€˜And yet you would have me go in a fine carriage to Silverbridge, as though to a wedding. If I am wanted let them take me as they would another. I shall be here for them – unless I am dead.’
    At this moment Jane reappeared, pressing her mother to take off her wet clothes, and Mrs Crawley went with her daughter to the kitchen. The one red-armed young girl who was their only servant was sent away, and then the mother and the child discussed how best they might prevail with the head of the family. ‘But, mamma, it must come right; must it not?’
    â€˜I trust it will. I think it will. But I cannot see my way as yet.’
    â€˜Papa cannot have done anything wrong.’
    â€˜No, my dear; he has done nothing wrong. He has made great mistakes, and it is hard to make people understand that he has not intentionally spoken untruths. He is ever thinking of other things, about the school, and his sermons, and he does not remember.’
    â€˜And about how poor we are, mamma.’
    â€˜He has much to occupy his mind, and he forgets things which dwell in the memory with other people. He said that he had got this money from Mr Soames, and of course he thought that it was so.’
    â€˜And where did he get it, mamma?’
    â€˜Ah – I wish I knew. I should have said that I had seen every shilling that came into the house; but I know nothing of this cheque – whence it came.’
    â€˜But will not papa tell you?’
    â€˜He would tell me if he knew. He thinks it came from the dean.’
    â€˜And are you sure it did not?’
    â€˜Yes; quite sure; as sure as I can be of anything. The dean told me he would give him fifty pounds, and the fifty pounds came. I had them in my own hands. And he has written to say that it was so.’
    â€˜But couldn’t this be part of the fifty pounds?’
    â€˜No, dear, no.’
    â€˜Then where did papa get it? Perhaps he picked it up, and has forgotten?’
    To this Mrs Crawley made no reply. The idea that the cheque had been found by her husband – had been picked up as Jane had said – had occurred also to Jane’s mother. Mr Soames was confident that he had dropped the pocket-book at the parsonage. Mrs Crawley had always disliked Mr Soames, thinking him to be hard, cruel, and vulgar. She would not have hesitated to believe him guilty of a falsehood, or even of direct dishonesty, if by so believing she could in her own mind have found the means of reconciling her husband’s possession of the cheque with absolute truth on his part. But she could not do so. Even though Soames had, with devilish premeditated malice, slipped the cheque into her husband’s pocket, his having done so would not account for her husband’s having used the cheque when he found it there. She was driven to make excuses for him which, valid as they might be with herself, could not be valid with others. He had said that Mr Soames had paid the cheque to him. That was clearly a mistake. He had said that the cheque had been given to him by the dean. That was clearly another mistake. She knew, or thought she knew, that he, being such as he was, might make such blunders as these, and yet be true. She believed that such statements might beblunders and not falsehoods – so convinced was she that her husband’s mind would not act at all times as do the minds of other men. But having such a conviction she was driven to believe also that almost