Part 27 (1/2)

said Mrs. Proudie. On this occasion he did look at her. He turned one glance upon her from under his eyebrows, but he did not speak.

”With all that I have nothing to do,” said the bishop.

”Nothing whatever, my lord,” said Mr. Crawley.

”But, bishop, I think that you have,” said Mrs. Proudie. ”The judgment formed by the magistrates as to the conduct of one of your clergymen makes it imperative upon you to act in the matter.”

”Yes, my dear, yes; I am coming to that. What Mrs. Proudie says is perfectly true. I have been constrained most unwillingly to take action in this matter. It is undoubtedly the fact that you must at the next a.s.sizes surrender yourself at the court-house yonder, to be tried for this offence against the laws.”

”That is true. If I be alive, my lord, and have strength sufficient, I shall be there.”

”You must be there,” said Mrs. Proudie. ”The police will look to that, Mr. Crawley.” She was becoming very angry in that the man would not answer her a word. On this occasion again he did not even look at her.

”Yes; you will be there,” said the bishop. ”Now that is, to say the least of it, an unseemly position for a beneficed clergyman.”

”You said before, my lord, that it was an unfortunate position, and the word, methinks, was better chosen.”

”It is very unseemly, very unseemly indeed,” said Mrs. Proudie; ”nothing could possibly be more unseemly. The bishop might very properly have used a much stronger word.”

”Under these circ.u.mstances,” continued the bishop, ”looking to the welfare of your parish, to the welfare of the diocese, and allow me to say, Mr. Crawley, to the welfare of yourself also--”

”And especially to the souls of the people,” said Mrs. Proudie.

The bishop shook his head. It is hard to be impressively eloquent when one is interrupted at every best turned period, even by a supporting voice. ”Yes;--and looking of course to the religious interests of your people, Mr. Crawley, I came to the conclusion that it would be expedient that you should cease your ministrations for awhile.” The bishop paused, and Mr. Crawley bowed his head.

”I, therefore, sent over to you a gentleman with whom I am well acquainted, Mr. Thumble, with a letter from myself, in which I endeavoured to impress upon you, without the use of any severe language, what my convictions were.”

”Severe words are often the best mercy,” said Mrs. Proudie. Mr.

Crawley had raised his hand, with his finger out, preparatory to answering the bishop. But as Mrs. Proudie had spoken he dropped his finger and was silent.

”Mr. Thumble brought me back your written reply,” continued the bishop, ”by which I was grieved to find that you were not willing to submit yourself to my counsel in the matter.”

”I was most unwilling, my lord. Submission to authority is at times a duty;--and at times opposition to authority is a duty also.”

”Opposition to just authority cannot be a duty, Mr. Crawley.”

”Opposition to usurped authority is an imperative duty,” said Mr.

Crawley.

”And who is to be the judge?” demanded Mrs. Proudie. Then there was silence for a while; when, as Mr. Crawley made no reply, the lady repeated her question. ”Will you be pleased to answer my question, sir? Who, in such a case, is to be the judge?” But Mr. Crawley did not please to answer her question. ”The man is obstinate,” said Mrs.

Proudie.

”I had better proceed,” said the bishop. ”Mr. Thumble brought me back your reply, which grieved me greatly.”

”It was contumacious and indecent,” said Mrs. Proudie.

The bishop again shook his head and looked so unutterably miserable that a smile came across Mr. Crawley's face. After all, others besides himself had their troubles and trials. Mrs. Proudie saw and understood the smile, and became more angry than ever. She drew her chair close to the table, and began to fidget with her fingers among the papers. She had never before encountered a clergyman so contumacious, so indecent, so unreverend,--so upsetting. She had had to do with men difficult to manage;--the archdeacon for instance; but the archdeacon had never been so impertinent to her as this man.

She had quarrelled once openly with a chaplain of her husband's, a clergyman whom she herself had introduced to her husband, and who had treated her very badly;--but not so badly, not with such unscrupulous violence, as she was now encountering from this ill-clothed beggarly man, this perpetual curate, with his dirty broken boots, this already half-convicted thief! Such was her idea of Mr. Crawley's conduct to her, while she was fingering the papers,--simply because Mr. Crawley would not speak to her.

”I forget where I was,” said the bishop. ”Oh. Mr. Thumble came back, and I received your letter;--of course I received it. And I was surprised to learn from that, that in spite of what had occurred at Silverbridge, you were still anxious to continue the usual Sunday ministrations in your church.”